True Romance
by Elfkid
Summary: One part XMen, One part Transporter, two parts True Romance, shaken well on the rocks and poured into Microsoft Word equals a new AU Gambit and Storm Adventure
1. Chapter 1

One part X-Men, One part Transporter, two parts True Romance, shaken well on the rocks and poured into Microsoft Word new Remy/Ro Adventure

All characters belong to Marvel Comics. I've taken some creative liberties in origins as this is an Alter verse tale.

Rated M for bad language, violence, and maybe sexual situations. We'll see how it unfolds. As of 8/3/06, I went through and updated minor things to keep with continuity.

----------------------

"Nothing will bother you,  
you will do what you want to.  
Laughs and loves and hopes and dreams,  
action will supply the means.  
Living for something,

Forgiving nothing,  
and you're forgiving, nothing,  
cause you're living for something."

-Life is an Adventure by The Violent Femmes

**CHAPTER 1**

_Part 1_

Ororo Munroe woke surrounded in total darkness, a steady roar filling her ears. She was unbearably hot, sweat was pouring off of her body, matting her hair and clothes to her skin. The first thing that registered with her was the throbbing pain in the back of her skull. Tape covered her mouth, inhibiting her breathing and her arms were bound behind her back, her restraints digging into her wrists. Zip-ties. Not ropes to be untied nor handcuffs to be picked but unforgiving plastic. At least her legs were free.

The scratchy surface of the trunk mat against her face verified her fear; panic setting in as she understood she was in the trunk of a car. Tears stung her eyes and her breath came in quick succession along with the thundering of her heart- her surroundings closing in on her as she fought to control her claustrophobia. How did she get here?

Fragments of memories flooded her mind like flashes of photos: The stench of the monstrously large man with his arm around her neck and his hot breath on her neck, the blood everywhere, being thrown against a wall, pain in the back of her head accompanied by a flash of white and then darkness. She wept.

To compound her fears, she felt the car easing to a stop and the roar died down to only the idle of the engine before the engine was killed. The slam of a car door startled her, and the sound of whistling, a tune she did not recognize, filled her ears. There was the jingling of keys and some scraping as the key was jammed into the lock.

Almost immediately, sunlight flooded into the trunk, forcing her to squint against the glare of the sun. All she could make out was the silhouette of a tall, thin man- nothing like the foreboding monster that initially kidnapped her. The smoke of cigarettes hit her nose, pervading the clean air she was desperate for. "Y' got t' be kidding me! I an effin' fille? Sacré bleu!" he hissed.

The man rolled a slew of French vulgarities off his tongue as he tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with great frustration. She knew very little French but she could read faces and understood vocal tones. Seeing the anger in him combined with the adrenaline coursing through her veins made the decision for her and she pulled herself up with great difficulty, attempting to leap out of her prison and run.

A split-second glance showed her they were out in the middle of nowhere, cacti dotting the horizon, and nowhere near California but she didn't care, she'd rather take her chance with rattlesnakes than him. In her haste, with one foot out, she slipped on the shiny steel bumper and the other caught on the lip of the trunk, pitching her forward. Eyes scrunched, she prepared for the inevitable. This was going to hurt…

His arm snaked out and grabbed her belt, her face missing the pavement by scant centimeters and knocking the wind out of her. He set her up on her feet and pulled out a 6" blade, igniting the panic in her again. Ororo tried to back away but burned herself on the black painted surface of the sun baked El Dorado.

"If y' gon' run t'rough de desert, be my guest but y' won' make it far like dat." He said with surprising apathy as he turned her around and cut the zip ties around her hands, a tingle going through her arms as blood flowed through them once again. She ripped the tape off of her mouth, taking in gulps of fresh air and brushed the hair out of her eyes to get a good look at her… captor?

He was older than her 26 years and inches taller, possibly 6'1" and very lean build, it didn't appear he would have the strength to catch her like he did, then again, he was wearing a long sleeve shirt. Strands of auburn hair rested over dark sunglasses that hid his eyes but she knew they were watching her, studying her with grating silence. She was afraid that if she took her eyes off of him, she would be helpless to stop him if he tried anything.

He was dressed very well, and a bit warm considering the searing temperature of the desert, in a long sleeve white button up shirt and a black tie that was waving in the suffocating desert breeze. He stood in a non threatening pose, hands in the pockets of his black slacks and his expression unreadable. His nonchalance almost angered her, him mocking her weak state- knowing she was no threat.

If only… no… her powers had abandoned her months ago…

Without warning, her legs began to quiver beneath her and her vision began to fade. She stumbled forwards to him in a daze, fighting to stay conscious but the adrenaline had left her almost as swiftly as it arrived, the exhaustion from the heat and her fear draining her energy. She collapsed.

-------------------------------------------

_2 hours later_

The sun was beginning to set on the New Mexico interstate and Remy Lebeau debated on whether or not to pull off at the next exit. He was worn out, over heated, hungry, and his car's gas tank was almost empty, the latter leaving him no choice. It was his own fault though, having chosen the classic car over the practical one to travel across the country.

A 1957 Cadillac El Dorado Biarritz Convertible, the vehicle was given to him as a joke years ago by his brother Henri. The punch-line being the memory of the one Remy had sunk in a river when he was 12.

When he had received the rusted bare bones junk pile, it was barely better off than the one resting at the bottom of the Mississippi River. But after years of hard work, it ran better and shined brighter than the day it drove away from the dealer. He just forgot to fix the air conditioning and was subsequently cranky over the lack of foresight. Having the top up kept him out of the sun but it did little against the heat. The open windows barely helped, he was sweating profusely and running low on water.

Remy traveled the interstate in silence, his brain mulling over the day's events and what he was going to do now; anything to keep his mind off of the shirt clinging to his back. The woman beside him was an unpleasant surprise and very dangerous liability. "_Who knows who's looking for her?"_ The idea nagged at him. The last thing he needed was to add 'kidnapper' to his qualifications. And if he was beginning to think if he didn't get her to a hospital, he might as well add 'murderer' to the list. Unfortunately, hospitals were scarcer than exits on this stretch.

Occasionally, he broke his gaze from the endless white line and glanced at her, making sure she was still breathing- or at least that was the reason he told himself every time he looked at her chest. The top buttons of her white blouse were missing and her white lace bra was showing through. Eventually, he reached over and pushed it closed just to get the thought out of his head, half expecting a candid movie moment with her waking up and accusing him of being a pervert. Instead, she curled up on the tan leather seat and kept sleeping.

She was in rough shape, dirt smudged on her cheeks and dried blood on her chin from a busted lip. Despite this, she was clearly very beautiful- very tall and slender. Looking at her snow white hair contrasting nicely with her smooth cocoa complexion, and remembering her blue eyes he wondered if she were a mutant like him. Nonetheless, she was the type of woman he couldn't resist charming, even if she would flat out refuse him he could never _not_ try. Unfortunately, finding her in your trunk and having her passed out in the front seat of your car didn't provide a good foot to start on.

She wore faded blue jeans, not the hip hugging kind women with her figure trounced around in but the practical working kind that bore the stains of yard work and painting endeavors on them; her brown knees poking through the tattered rips in the fabric.

Either she was caught off guard at home or had great difficulty parting with the old denims. He settled on the latter, considering the starched white blouse accompanied with it, and the brown leather belt in the loops around her waist.

"_When did I become Isaac Mizrahi?"_ He smiled slightly at the fashion psychology as he passed a highway sign alerting him of a gas station diner 12 miles away.

It was getting dark enough for him to remove his sunglasses so he threw the annoying frames onto the seat next to his long ago discarded tie, relieved to be able to see things in real color now. True, he had needed them because of the sun but also for disguise. He was a mutant and they concealed his ruby on onyx eyes. Eyes that had earned him many unpleasant reactions in his life; most being accusations of conspiring with the devil. It was almost comical that in the day and age of super-powered human beings, some people still reverted to old beliefs.

The woman sighed and slowly, her eyes opened, two perfect blue orbs searching around warily. He braced himself for the inevitable panic, scream, and possible physical attack- at least that is what he would do in her situation.

Ororo examined herself, noting that she was still clothed, had no new bruises, and wasn't dead in the sand. She was in a car, relieved it was the front seat this time, and secured with a seatbelt- not zip ties. The man beside her was the same that had released her from the trunk and saved her face from getting smashed on the asphalt and evidently caught her again when she blacked out. She noticed him glance at her with stunning red on black eyes, "_A mutant like me…"_ His arms were tense as his fists clenched the steering wheel. Curiously, he still did not acknowledge her.

With cat like intensity, she stared at him quietly, judging every detail and wondering what was in her best interest right now. She could throw caution to the wind and pray that the highway would be forgiving at 80 miles an hour or she could try and find out what was going on and make a safer escape when he had to refuel. His tank was nearly empty and a road sign informed her a gas station was just minutes away. She resigned on the safer route, she was too sore to try the first idea.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her throat harsh and grating from dehydration.

Her question caught him off guard, not only was she not going fight or flight on him but she didn't even seem to put priority in 'who' he was. Not that it mattered, she didn't need to know what he did anyway. "'_We_' are not goin' anywhere. '_I'_ am goin' t' fill up my tank. '_You_' can do whatever de hell y' want chère, I have no say over y'."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, "You are going to drop me off in the middle of the desert!"

"Non. If I wanted t' do dat, I would've left ya a hun'red miles back. Dis way, y' have a pay phone n' y' c'n call fo' a ride."

"I have no one to call." She said softly, recalling the blood bath at her apartment. If she contacted anyone, she was sure it would only endanger them.

"Y' got t' have someone dat care's enough t' stuff ya in my trunk."

"Or someone that cares very little." She smiled wryly and ran a brown hand through her snowy hair and stared out the windshield. Why was this happening to her? Was she that desperate to place trust in a total stranger? She couldn't help but feel their path's crossed for a reason, somehow, two threads leading back to the same source. She had to tread carefully as for all she knew, he could be a bigger threat than the feral mutant that had attacked her previously.

Ororo wanted to cry but swallowed her pain. She was stronger than that. Months ago, she would have come out of this unscathed but Mother Nature had abandoned her, cast her away like a wayward child.

Once, Ororo was able to command the elements- flying on gale winds, summoning lightning at will, disperse fogs and bring rain with a flick of her wrist. Now, she was a flat-scan. She scolded herself for the prejudicial term. She was no longer homo-sapien superior. No, Ororo, former Goddess and Wind Rider, was only human.

She still didn't understand how it happened. It was immediately after she'd been hospitalized with a freak fever that spiked to 104° F. No cause was determined and she refused the request to study her condition further as she secretly thought it associated with her powers. No one could explain the bruise on her hip so she assumed she had fallen. Just days afterwards, she found she couldn't even summon a ghost of a breeze. Now, she couldn't even feel the changes in the weather around her. It had gone mute.

The car stopped under the canopy of the gas station and the slam of his car door roused her from her brooding. Before entering the station, Remy stopped at the payphone with his back to her. As he began to roll up his sleeves, she noticed he wasn't as thin as she initially thought but rather broad shouldered and his arms were quite muscular- only from the side did he appear thin because he was quite fit. She wondered who he had to call from out here, he had no wedding ring (not that it meant anything these days) but despite his initial tirade, he seemed very calm for someone who just found a half dead woman in his trunk.

------------

Remy waited for the Contact to pick up the phone. It was on its 5th ring. He needed to check in to find out why the hell some punk, claiming to be an agent of his hire, dumped a woman in his trunk without telling him.

He'd only been hired to steal a microchip, a simple, itty bitty microchip for a not so itty bitty sum. It appeared his hire had developed it, a bio-neurological agent that regulated the control over mutant abilities, amplifying them considerably or eliminating them completely and it had been 'lost in transit.' Which was a mild way of saying some asshole snatched it.

Turns out, the Contact had doubts Lebeau could pull the job, given the delicate nature of the 'goods,' and had the woman dropped off, special delivery. That fact irritated Remy back in Phoenix when the less than tactful blonde behemoth of a man had backed his car up to Remy's and shoved the item inside, the back of the car sinking. His vision was blocked by the lid of the trunk but the weight differential was less than subtle. _Some microchip_. It'd been that suspicion that goaded him to open the trunk on the freeway.

"I ain' a damn transporter, I'm a thief. Remember?" The man on the phone ignored his words and went on to explain that plans had changed and the white haired woman was now the item of importance and that Remy would bring her to the agreed place. "_If that address is even real," _he thought bitterly.

This did not sit well with Remy. First: sending him on a false run, second: involving unknown parties, third: he was a thief, not a kidnapper; he delivered goods he lifted himself, he was not a delivery boy for some lazy jackass. Too many purposefully planted complications. He did not appreciate being lied to.

Remy insisted he did not deal with human cargo but was informed that if he refused the job, more would be willing to take it. Most likely, those without her safety in mind.

Remy was going soft in his old age and a twisted smile graced his lips. 31 wasn't old in the normal world but if you'd been in this business since you were a pup… He needed a vacation. More than that, he needed a cigarette.

He pulled one out of the pack and grabbed his lighter, only to have his eyes rest on a no smoking sign. "_Damn gas stations…"_

-------------------------

After several minutes, he ran a hand through his hair and replaced the receiver, obviously frustrated with the conversation, and headed into the building, stopping to hold the door open for an attractive woman, slightly older than Ororo; he flashed a brilliant smile and exchanged a few words. _"So he's a flirt,"_ she mused.

As he paid the tenant, she went to open the glove box but found it locked. Child's play. Pulling two lock picks from the hem of her pants, within seconds, she had it open and rummaged through some napkins, an unpaid parking ticket, and some old 8-tracks for a registration. Anything to tell her his name.

Her fingers brushed the plastic surface in the back and she noticed it had a compartment for a cabin filter. Something definitely not available when this dinosaur was forged. She found a spring lever behind the left hinge of the compartment's door and pushed it. Bingo.

The ring of the station door's bell reached her through the open window. Quickly scanning the document, she replaced it next to his gun, pocketed the ammunition, and returned things how she found them, albeit not bothering to waste time locking the compartment door. Let him think he forgot to secure it. She feigned tying her shoelace to explain why she was bent forward.

Wordlessly, Remy tossed a bottle of water to her which she caught in mid-air, her reflexes not dulled even in her state, which did not go unnoticed. He pushed the button on the pump and began fueling up the Cadillac. The night air was incredibly soothing compared to the heat of the day and he opened his door to open the top of the car.

Ororo guzzled the water voraciously, not caring if she would feel sick afterwards. She couldn't remember water ever tasting this good.

"Are y' hungry?" he asked her as he opened her car door and undid the clip securing the rag top. He noticed the key lock to the glove compartment was now in the unlocked position.

She wiped her mouth and nodded.

"Y've had a rough day, neh? I'll buy y' dinner. Unless y' have somewhere t' be..." Her head tilted in curiosity at his words,_ "Not unwarranted_," he thought, up until recently he'd given her the cold shoulder. The gas nozzle clicked off and he returned the pump to its cradle.

Before starting the engine he reached over across her lap and she recoiled. He rolled his eyes and jammed the keys in the glove compartment, locking it while giving her a hard stare. She maintained a very believable façade of innocence. There was more to this girl than his contact let on.

-----------------------------

In the soft fluorescent lighting of the diner, Remy could see bruises on her wrists from her restraints and the bruise on her jaw had darkened considerably. It did not go unnoticed the waitress spotted them as well and she kept casting him dirty looks as she took his order. It crossed his mind that she might spit in his food and he suddenly wasn't very hungry.

"Non, Petite c'n whatever she wants, t'ough." He said, noticing they were the only ones in the restaurant.

Ororo ordered generously. She remembered life on the street and who knew how long his benevolence would hold up? The waitress departed and Remy lit up a cigarette and held the first puff's smoke in his lungs several seconds before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. _Mon Dieu, dat's heaven…_

He watched as she fidgeted, twisting a lock of silver hair around a slender brown finger. The silence was killing her.

He shouldn't get to know her. She was a job. _Just_ a job... So why did the next words fall out of his mouth? "D' y' have a name, fille?"

"Does it matter?"

He shrugged and tapped ashes into the ashtray. "Have t' call y' some'ting."

"Tempest," she answered a little too quickly, as if the look on his face challenged the authenticity of her namesake. Even if she only had the name all of 3 seconds, it was her name to him.

He smiled and shook his head, "Y' c'n pick locks but y' are a terrible liar. Tempête does not suit you… you're more broody dan intimidatin'. I'll call ya Stormy. "

"Do not call me that." she glared, digging into her food.

"So, Stormy," he said with a grin, "What makes y' so important?"

"If I knew, do you think I would be road tripping with a complete stranger? All I know is that I am alone and people who know me have a habit of ending up dead."

He laughed, she was feisty. "Y' ain't alone, petite. An' you'll find me harder t' kill dan most. How's dis, y' answer one of my questions, and I _will_ know if you're lying, and I will answer one for you. Y' up fo' dat?"

She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and leaned in, chin resting on her hand. "Alright."

"What is y' real name, Stormy?"

"Ororo. Will you stop calling me that now?"

"No. Now, what's y' talent?"

"I get to ask my question!" she hissed.

"Y' did, an' I quote, 'Will y' stop calling me dat now?'"

"That does not count--"

"I believe dat _was_ an interrogative. Now spit it out, what's y' talent."

She crossed her arms, "That can mean so many things. Are we talking mutants, skills, trades, bedroom activities… the list goes on and on."

"T'ink long n' hard befo' y' start pissin' me off."

Her eyes dropped and she poked her salad with her fork, "I was a mutant. Was. I'd prefer not to talk about that right now, ok? It is still too fresh."

"I'm done fo' now." He leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head as he connected the dots. _"Microchip dampens powers. F'get chip, cause Femme needs taken t' de hire. Femme USED t' be a mutant."_ His brow furrowed as it dawned on him. It wasn't so much Ororo that was the valuable object as it was what was what was in her. But why go through the trouble of implanting the chip unless she was key as well? What ability did she have that needed controlled?

Ororo ate quietly, still avoiding his gaze, not that she could see past his sunglasses. She remained haunted by his eyes yet somehow, drawn to them, to him. He was an enigma, even the papers in his car revealed nothing of him except a dual identity- Robert Lord. Yeah, right. An accent like that doesn't come with a name tag like Bob.

This man wasn't her kidnapper and up until 15 minutes ago, would have let her wander the desert on her own. Suddenly, after his phone call, he was very interested in her welfare and personal information. She sipped her drink and again caught herself staring at him.

He was preoccupied with whomever it was entering the restaurant and he lowered his glasses to get a better look. "_Probably that woman from the gas station."_ Yet, his jaw tightened and his cigarette remained frozen in his mouth, the ember burning itself out with no draw from his lungs.

She turned to see what caught his attention and her heart began to thunder in her ears. In the door stood a towering man in a leather coat and ripped jeans. It was the blonde man who had nearly killed her. His nose appeared to be bandaged, from the kick she had given him in her struggle before he had thrown her against a wall. Interestingly, he was accompanied by the woman from the gas station, and he was scanning the restaurant. Searching for her.

How did he know she was here!

"Goddess!" She breathed and swiftly ducked down under the table, crawling over to 'Robert', humiliated her panic had reduced her to this- 26 years old and crawling like a baby. She was humiliated, but not stupid. She still remembered the last time that bastard had gotten the drop on her. She would not let him get her again.

Ororo peeked out from under the table cloth, blue eyes glistening with an odd mixture of fear and anger, and mouthed, _"That's him…" _before disappearing back under the red checkered vinyl. Perhaps, just perhaps, he didn't see her and he would leave.

---------------------

Remy knew exactly who the man was. How many WWF rejects could one run into in one day? What he didn't know, was why Victor Creed was here. These twists and turns were pushing his patience to its limit and it would take very little to set him off.

As expected, the man approached his table, heavy boots treading loudly across the tile floor and stopped next to him. His accomplice was cracking her gum, chewing it with an open mouth. A spike of disgust went through him. He _hated_ gum crackers. It was overtly obnoxious and not to mention disgusting when you could see what they were chewing. He had held the door open for her!

"Mind if I sit?" Victor growled, as he took Ororo's place on the bench, not waiting for an answer and pulled the woman next to him. "Seat's still warm. Where is she?"

Remy couldn't stop staring at her mouth with unmasked distaste as it opened, closed, opened closed. _"Like an effin' fish…"_

"What's it matter, Creed? Y' job got done back in Phoenix." Remy blew smoke into his face before putting his cigarette out. It was difficult keeping a straight face as Ororo reached a hand into his pocket, no doubt looking for his knife from earlier. He kicked her gently as her hand touched something that was very much not what she was looking for and not taking the hint, dove into his other pocket.

The man leered, "You cocky bastard. You've been pulled. Seems Farouk doubts you can deliver."

Farouk? That was a name Remy hadn't heard before. Name's were not usually used freely in his line of work "Considerin' I ain' a delivery boy, dat don' surprise me. But, y' can' expect me t' jus' han' her over like dat wit'out confirmation." He kicked her again and she backed off, having found the knife.

The leggy brunette was staring at him and blowing a large, pink bubble. "_I can' take dis anymore." _He calmly grabbed his fork and stabbed the pink blob. "Dat's disgutin'- y' c'n either cut it out or I will kill you." He stated matter of factly, no humor in his tone.

"Fuck you." She sneered.

"Quit yer bitchin', Raven. Look, Lebeau. Hand her over and you can keep that handsome face of yours in mint condition. If I have to look for her, I'll be wearing your entrails as a necklace and I won't go easy on her. Damn bitch broke my nose. I figure I owe her." So that explained why he didn't smell Ororo under the table, Remy thought.

Remy's eyes flashed red but his voice remained steady, "Homme, I'd like t' see y' try. Y' won' have her." Creed was bigger than him, sure, but skilled? No. Men like him relied on their mass to do the work, never the skill. And Remy had one advantage. There was a pissed off woman under the table with a knife and as mad as she might be at this revelation right now, he was sure she hated the kidnapper more than him.

The man jumped up and reached across the table, one massive hand wrapping around Remy's throat. "You sure do talk a lot of shit, Lebeau. So much you're wading in it. Where is she!" Creed saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and in the shiny sheet metal of the bar to his right, saw her under the table. "Fuck…"

Ororo plunged the knife up into Victor's groin with as much force as she could manage from her cramped position under the table. She pulled the knife out and was about to stab him again when Remy fell back into his seat and reached down, grabbed her arm and pulled her out from under the table. "We got t' get out o' here fast chère- Dat won' stop him long!"

"You mother fucking whore!" Creed roared, blood pouring from his wound.

The woman jumped from her seat and gave Remy a roundhouse kick to the face, sending him back into a table. He felt blood in his mouth and anger flashed in his eyes.

"Piss off, Lebeau!" she spat, arms crossed against her chest.

Ororo bolted to his side but the brunette tripped her, grabbed a fistful of her silver hair and yanked her back again, Ororo barely missing a fist in her kidney as she tumbled backwards. The air in her lungs left in a gush as her back slammed into a bar stool at the diner's counter and she hit the floor.

Victor, still bleeding, stumbled over to grab her but she reached up and grabbed his arm, using his weight to pull herself up and utilizing her velocity, brought a knee to his elbow, shattering it. With little effort, he reached out and grabbed her arm with his good one, wrenching it hard enough to make her drop the knife. "Look, doll, you can keep hittin' and I'll just keep healin' so give it a goddamned rest!" he snarled.

Ororo's wide blue eyes stared at Remy who was now standing across the room, lighting a cigarette, indifferent to her situation. He didn't care about her. The discussion she'd heard from under the table, she tried to believe he wasn't involved, yet here he was, watching her attack without a hint of concern. "You bastard!" she sobbed. "You double crossing bastard!"

"Don't cry, honey," Creed cooed, "I'll be yer new boyfriend." His gruff laugh echoed in the empty diner.

"What do we do with handsome here?" the brunette gestured to Remy, the statement punctuated with a crack of her gum. His red eyes flashed briefly at the sound.

"Gut him."

"Gladly."

Time slowed to a crawl as Ororo watched Raven lunge for Remy. He was disturbingly indifferent, eyes burning brighter than the cigarette resting between his pursed lips, shoulders relaxed. Raven leapt for his throat and he ducked, popping up as she sailed over him and with one fluid movement, he landed a solid punch to her stomach and she crumpled against his fist, hitting the ground hard. In an instant, Raven's skin changed from pale white to deep blue. She was a changeling.

Raven was not moving but Ororo could see she was still breathing. "I tol' y' t' quit crackin' dat effin' gum." He grumbled, replacing the cigarette in his mouth and stepped over her.

Victor's grip loosened on Ororo and she wriggled free. He reached for her again, claws enclosing around fabric and her blouse ripped open as the buttons gave way and she slipped to the ground, crawling for the knife.

Remy threw a glowing plate at Creed, it exploding on the larger man's chest and diverting his attention from Ororo. Creed threw a chair at Remy's head, it missing its intended target and crashing against the wall.

Seeing her opportunity, Ororo's brown hand closed on the bloody knife on the floor and with calculated aim, hurled it at Victor, the blade sinking into his back and he turned back to attack her. "What did I tell, you? Fucking cu—" His words were cut off as Remy cut through the air, his foot landing in Creed's back, the knife being driven up to the end of the handle through his ribs. He finally collapsed as blood poured into his lungs and forced him into unconsciousness.

Remy put his cigarette out on Creed's neck, a sharp hiss hitting the air and he watched as the burn began to fade. "Gimme my knife back." He said angrily, digging his fingers into Creed's wound as he claimed his weapon. "Y' ok Stormy?" he asked after wiping it off on the wicked man's shirt. After watching the cigarette burn fade, he surmised they maybe had 10 minutes before the bastard was conscious again.

Ororo stood trembling, from the chill on her bare skin but most from the familiar rush of adrenaline in her veins again. Although badly battered, she was ok. He hadn't betrayed her. She ran up and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him as hard as she could and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She whispered. He was awkward in her embrace and reluctantly rested one arm around her.

"We got t' leave, femme. Befo' cops arrive an' goldilocks returns from de dead." She pulled away from him with confusion in her eyes.

"He's a mutant, chère." He said softly. "We c'n talk more in de car."

That explained why his nose wasn't completely flattened when he walked in the diner, Ororo guessed as she followed him outside. They passed Creed's car and she knew how to gain a mild advantage. "Let me see your knife."

"Why?" he slammed the door to the car, and started the car before tossing it to her. He watched as she flicked the blade out and stabbed the tires of the black sedan. Still not satisfied, she kicked the driver's side mirror, leaving it dangling by wires before hopping into the car and calmly putting her seat belt on and handing him his knife.

He shook his head. Picking locks, throwing knives, slashing tires… what had he gotten himself into?

Remy shifted the car in drive and with the spin of the tires, they were back on the freeway headed to Colorado.

_Part 2_

The night breeze was cool and almost cleansing after the fight in the Diner. Remy's thoughts were divided between Ororo and their next stop. They just had to make it to Denver for him to complete a job and then they could head to New Orleans. Suddenly, Louisiana was too far away. He reached for another cigarette, not remembering when he'd smoked so much in such a short period.

"I would tell you those will be the death of you, if it weren't for the display back there."

"If only I could be so lucky." He said cupping his hand around his face to shield the lighter from the wind and the scent of cloves was carried off in the breeze.

"At least they don't smell bad." she removed the shredded rag that used to be a blouse and threw it at the floor. There was nothing provocative in the gesture, just the desire for comfort; she just stretched and curled up, bringing her knees to her chin as she stared out at the passing dessert. She tried to tune in to nature, desperate for even a whisper from her Goddess to ease her heart.

After several minutes of silence, Ororo turned to him. "Do you mind?" she asked, pointing to the glove compartment. "I saw a tape in there I liked."

"Be my guest."

He watched as she undid the lock with several quick motions and twist of her wrist. She popped the old 8-track into the stereo and turned the volume up, the first track thunked into place and the music started. Tom Petty's "Refugee," began to play through the speakers.

"Little ironic, don' ya t'ink?"

"I didn't compile the track list- Damn the Torpedoes is just a good album…" she murmured softly, her mind on the incident at the diner.

After several seconds, the dam broke and she assaulted him with a flurry of questions, "Who was that man back there? Why is he after me and what does it have to do with you? Actually, who are you and how did I end up in your trunk? And do not insult me by using that fake name that is on your registration…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. One at a time. Next y' gonna ask me what de meanin' o' life is." He laughed slightly.

"Mr. Lebeau…"

"It's Remy chère." He interrupted. Only kids and bill collectors called him Mr. Lebeau."

She pulled her hands up to her hair to keep it from whipping in her eyes. "What is your first name?"

"Remy."

"Remy the Beautiful One? You're kidding right?" she mused at the translation of the last name that she heard Creed call him in the diner. If the shoe fits…

"Believe it or not, dat is my real name. Y' speak French?"

"Not really. All I know is what a homeless man in Cairo used to mumble. A friend translated one time."

"Cairo? As in Egypt?"

"You are answering my questions right now. What is your talent?" Her smile spread into a grin, mocking him.

_Two can play at that game._ "Dat c'n mean so many t'ngs. Are we talkin' mutants, skills, trades, bedroom activities… de list goes on and on." He cast a devilish smile at her surprise he remembered her word for word.

She raised a white eyebrow, "Think long and hard before you start pissing me off."

"Touché… I blow stuff up."

"I saw the plate. How…I mean, can you blow up anything? Is there a trigger? What about your eyes?"

"Aren't y' de nosy one? No trigger, I just take potential energy and make it kinetic. The molecules go haywire and boom. Works on anytin'. Eyes don' do much 'cept scare de hell out o' some people." He inhaled his cigarette, the burn in his lungs was less grating than the 20 questions.

"I rather like your eyes." She said quietly. "Are you really supposed to drop me off with Amoul Farouk?"

"Supposed t'." He watched her eyes fall and she bit her lip. "Don' mean I will."

"Why not? You've only known me for half a day. I mean nothing to you."

"Look, chère, I don' deal in kidnappin'. I'm a t'ief dat got mixed in a bad deal when my contact conveniently fo'got I steal t'ings, not people. I tol' y' t' scram when y' had de chance but y' stayed. Like a fool, I took pity on y' and now I'm in shit deep as y' an' I don' even know-- wait a second… y' know Farouk?" he slammed on the breaks and pulled the car to the side of the road.

She got quiet as red eyes burned from across the seat at her. Ororo knew darn well who Amoul Farouk was- hearing his name again worried her. Long ago, he had invaded her mind, when she lived in Africa. A passing mutant, an American man, had saved her. She still regretted that in her haste to escape, she was never able to thank him. The last echoes of Farouk still burned her mind, he had threatened to find her again. Had he found her after all these years?

"Creed never said 'is first name. What y' hidin'? No ordinary fille woul' be pickin' locks or t'rowin' knives' at de likes of him."

"If you keep driving I will tell you." She managed with an even voice. "The last thing I want is Victor Creed's hands on me again."

"Let me tell y' some'ting Ororo, if y' don' start coughin' up de truth, y' c'n f'get bout him and start worryin' bout me. Don' f'get what y' said- I've only known y' half a day an' y' mean not'ing t' me. Don' push y' luck o' ya can go back in de trunk." He said through gritted teeth as the El Dorado rolled back on to the highway. As much as the words were a bluff, his temper was very real. It had been 16 hours since he last ate and if Raven's obnoxious gum chewing could set him off, all this BS would certainly to it.

Ororo read the insincerity in his words. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. Whether leaving her to die in the heat, taking advantage of her in her sleep, or letting Creed take her without a second thought. Instead, he had done the opposite. His twisted sense of honor impressed her, something she understood as a fellow thief.

"Amoul Farouk is not so much a man as he is an entity- he controls people as his puppets, using them as avatars in the physical world while he exists in the astral. I had an encounter with him as a child, when I lived in Cairo.

"My father was a photojournalist and my mother a princess of a tribe in Africa. She is from whom I inherited my white hair and blue eyes, it is not a mutation. Anyway, while he was on an assignment in Cairo, Egypt, an airplane crashed on our house, killing them and leaving me buried with them. I am a claustrophobe because of it. Mutant powers or not, I will give you hell like you've never seen if you even _try_ to put me back there again." She threatened with anger flashing in her blue eyes.

For the next ten minutes, Ororo Munroe explained how after being orphaned, she was trained by a master thief name Achmed el Gibar to pick pockets and procure valuable items for various clientele, learning English at a local mission and knife throwing from the other urchins.

Remy was fascinated when she described the awakening of her elemental powers because unlike him having to worry about blowing stuff up every 10 seconds along with the other hazards of puberty, she had no trouble grasping control over her abilities, having felt as one with the earth's spirit and drawing from it. For several years she provided rains to villages in Kenya that worshipped her as a goddess- a title she embraced fully. At the time, she had no idea what a mutant was.

"My life as a goddess was short lived. When I was just 17, Farouk touched my mind, digging his fingers through my spirit. All I could feel when he was in my mind was the oppressive darkness in his soul. I can not even begin to describe it. He claimed I would be the perfect host, if given time to be 'cultivated' to his needs, he would be unstoppable. For what, I don't know but the Goddess was shining down on me, as a visitor to our village, an American by the name of Xavier, was a telepathic mutant and he rescued my mind by engaging Farouk."

"As I fled, Farouk was fading from my mind, his words that he would hunt me down to claim me echoed in my ears. I made a decision then to come to America since he would have no problem tracking me in Africa. I was going to seek out my father's family in New York, sure they would recognize the hair and eyes of N'Dare's daughter.

"It took nearly 16 hours to fly across the Atlantic on a summoned wind and I almost died from exhaustion. I had never used my powers for so long and to such an extent- it's amazing the motivation of a cold, frothing sea waiting to swallow you."

A wistful feeling came upon her and she continued, "When I arrived, even with my scraps of memories as a guide, there was no one here for me. Through some connections, I was able to claim my birth certificate and social security to try and live as a citizen, not that it did any good. I had no job experience or interest in anything I was qualified for. Nobody here needed a goddess." She laughed bitterly. "So to survive, I turned to the only thing I knew. Theft."

"What bout yo' powers? When did y' lose dose?" his expression had softened considerably and his tone was more gentle.

"About 2 months ago. I had a freak fever, almost 104. I passed out in the street and evidently an ambulance was called because I woke up in a hospital. I was told there was no explanation for it and they wanted to study my blood work. I assumed it may have had something to do with my powers so I walked out, thinking little of it. Over the next few days, my control and connection to the earth began to fade until by the end of the week, they were completely gone. I burned myself out."

A tear broke free and ran down her cheek and she became angry. "But how does that happen! Things were so normal… and then… nothing. I can't hear the earth anymore and it's tearing me apart. I feel so… hollow…

"Why am I telling you this? You don't care!" she spat, wrapping her arms around herself and scowling. Damn the man beside her, his false sense of concern and damn herself for being so open. Where was her mind going?

"Merde, chère, y' sure as hell ain't gon' fare well on y' own if effin' Victor Creed knocked y' flat."

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cause it's true?"

"No. 'Effin'. Why don't you just say it?"

He laughed. "Cause my poppa taught dis pup dat some words had dere place and dey were not t' be used in front o' a lady. Y' are a lady right?" Mock panic set in on his face as he teased her, lightening the mood.

"What do you think?" She unfolded her arms and held them out so he could see her cleavage in her lace bra and he cast his eyes back on the road.

"I t'ink y' need t' make y'self decent."

"I left my suitcase behind. There wasn't enough room in the trunk." She rolled her eyes. Having grown up in Kenya, clothing was not a big issue with her. Even though she had grown accustomed to Western modesty, a bra still felt like a bikini top to her. She was slightly chilled from the night air, but in a way, she enjoyed his discomfort.

"If y' reach under de seat, dere's a blanket." He said, glancing in his rear view mirror. Thankfully, the road was clear.

Ororo reached under the bench and pulled out a fleece blanket. It was surprisingly very clean considering the location, and held the scent of leather mixed with his cigarettes. She undid her seatbelt to wrap it around herself and then gave herself extra slack to sit sideways so she could rest her head on the door and stare at the stars, listening to 'Century City' playing from the 8-track. "Remy… where are we headed?"

"Denver."

"What, may I ask, is in Denver?" she yawned.

"Don' worry bout it. Sleep."

"I will not sleep unless you do. For one, it is not fair for you and second, you could be pervert for all I know."

"Suit y' self. Y' got t' sleep sometime."

----------------------------

_Part 3_

By the time they reached Colorado, it was well past midnight and Remy was having trouble keeping his eyes open. A glance in the rearview mirror showed glazed over ruby eyes, dark circles under his eyes and the stubble on his chin had long surpassed a 5 o'clock shadow. Having run consistently since 3 the previous morning, combined with the driving, lack of food, and the excitement of the day, he finally broke down and admitted that if they didn't stop somewhere, they weren't going to make it at all.

Ororo caught him yawning and rubbing his eyes to stay awake and offered to drive which he adamantly refused. With the skills and abilities under her belt, he didn't want to risk 'rally car racer' being on the list.

They pulled off the highway and booked a room at a motel. It wasn't the seediest dive he'd ever stayed in, but he was definitely going to sleep on top of the comforter.

"I can't believe you took the hourly rate. They think I'm your quickie!" She hissed as he unlocked the motel room door, still wrapped in the blanket. "I could have picked the lock no problem. Free room."

Remy dropped his suitcase on the ground. "An why risk gettin' caught over some'ting I c'n pay fo'? We're leavin' in 5 hours anyway." he said, flopping onto the queen sized bed before turning onto his back with his hands intertwined, resting on his stomach.

"I am going to shower. You might want to think about doing it."

He groaned, would she just let him sleep? "Dey may t'ink y' my quickie but you and I know I'm too tired so I refuse t' even t'ink 'bout doin' it."

She put a hand on her hip, "Funny guy. Do you do stand up on weekends? Goddess, you need a shower. I can see the stink lines coming off your body."

He dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "I'll do it tomorrow! Lemme sleep."

"Where do I sleep?"

Remy opened one eye, "Dere's a nice fluffy carpet goin' t' waste under y' feet."

"There is no telling what is crushed into this." She grimaced, "It probably hasn't been vacuumed since it was installed, which is about 30 years ago by the looks of it…"

"Not my problem. Leave me alone- I need t' sleep. NOW!" He closed his eyes again and Ororo stuck her middle finger up to him.

Goddess, the man's infuriating. One second he was chivalrous, the next, a greedy disagreeable little monster. _I am not going to sleep on that carpet._ She thought as she turned the light on in the bathroom, sighing with relief that it was relatively clean and stocked with travel shampoo and soap.

After her shower, she removed the bullets from her pocket and rinsed out her jeans, annoyed that some of Victor's blood had stained them on the left ankle. _Good luck forgetting that bastard, now._ She wrung them out as best she could and tossed them over the shower curtain rod to dry next to her undergarments and socks. There was no way she was going to wear 2 day old underwear.

Satisfied, she picked up the bullets and wrapped the blanket around herself to hide her bare skin, clicked the light out, and headed out to the bedroom, deciding that the queen sized bed was big enough for both of them; she would just sleep with her head at his feet to avoid awkwardness.

Ororo figured the threat of him killing her was gone so before going to bed, she dumped the ammunition in his shoe at the foot of the bed. The clink from them was louder than she expected and her breath caught, as she expected him to wake up. A glance at his face verified he was dead asleep. Climbing onto the bed, she settled in and within minutes, was asleep.

-----------------

Remy jerked from his sleep, falling out of bed and a throbbing pain in his nose. Did someone just attack him in his sleep? He scrambled to his feet in a defensive stance, and grabbed the nearest object, which turned out to be Ororo's shoe, and kinetically charged it, trying to get his wits about him.

Scanning the room from the glow of the shoe, he found the room in order, door was still locked, window undisturbed. He felt a warm trickle down his top lip, blood started dripping down his chin, and he realized who his attacker was- Ororo was asleep on the bed, only with her head at the foot of the bed. Evidently, she had given him a hell of a kick in her sleep. He reabsorbed the energy from his 'weapon,' completely irritated and searched for a tissue.

He clicked the light on in the bathroom and tended to his nose, wishing nothing but malice upon Ororo for the rude awakening. "Sacre bleu… Crazy woman, what she t'inken?…" An eyebrow raised as his eyes rested on her underwear hanging over the shower curtain. "C_her Seigneur, give me stren'th…"_ His morning was already hell.

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, as if willing the clothes away but opening his eyes, he saw they were still there. First night on the road and she was already butt naked? That certainly was a record for him. He smiled weakly and rinsed his hands off.

He pulled her clothes down from their perch and started the shower. 5 hours. Just 5 more hours and he would be in Denver and he could get his mind off of this mess

Looking at his watch, he noticed it was 4AM and they had to be back on the road in an hour. There was no way he could fall back asleep now. He went to the bedroom and grabbed his shoes, spilling bullets out of them. _What de hell?_ He recognized the casing and caliber and looked to the ceiling, _Why d' y' hate me today, Lord? Why?_

_-------------------------_

20 minutes later, Ororo stretched her muscles as much as she could, feeling new bruises in her body but feeling better in spirit. She was still so tired. Looking to her left, she noticed her clothes folded perfectly neat, even her underwear, on the nightstand and smiled. She could hear the buzz of an electric razor in the bathroom so she took the opportunity to get dressed.

Checking her appearance in the mirror on the wall, she sighed. She needed a shirt.

--------------------------

The door to the bathroom wasn't shut all the way so Ororo opened it and tossed a fruit pie on the counter as Remy clicked his razor off.

"Don' y' knock?"

"The door was open. I brought you a snack for the road, there was a vending machine around the corner." She bit into her own pie, staring at the muscles in his arms. He was only wearing a sleeveless under shirt and she was enjoying the view. Whatever Remy Lebeau did for a living, it appeared to require a hard body.

"T'anks. Dat's my shirt isn't it?" he observed the white button up shirt hanging loosely on her in the shoulders and she had left the bottom buttons undone and tied the ends in a knot to bare her stomach.

She looked down at the shirt and smiled un-apologetically, "Yes. Well, I am ready when you are." Ororo was beginning to think he didn't so much wear clothes, as a uniform. All his suitcase contained were pressed black slacks and starched white button up shirts and several pairs of boxers.

"I'm almost done." He said, buttoning his shirt and began adjusting his tie in the mirror, making sure everything was in its place. She was giving him an odd look. "What?"

"Are you OCD?"

"Excuse moi?" both his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Obsessive Compulsive. You are meticulous about the oddest things. And your clothes…"

"You are turnin' into a nag. What's wrong wit' my clothes! You're de one walkin' round wit holes in y' pants."

Ororo became embarrassed at her intrusive question. "I am sorry I offended, I was genuinely curious."

"No, I am not OCD." He said flatly, shoving his razor along with his after shave and a few other items carelessly into a leather traveling bag, a smug satisfaction on his face. He stared at it a second, realizing that the aftershave was above the razor, not below it, how he always put it in there. It mocked him in its disorder. With great effort, he zipped it closed and walked past her, surprised that it bothered him so much.

He was not obsessive, just detailed… he had to be, where one thing gone unnoticed could spell your doom. What kind of thief was she anyhow? Just a pick-pocket- no wonder she could be so careless. She didn't deal with his level clientele. He did one final scan of the room, making sure nothing was out of place, to leave no sign of them having even been here. Satisfied, he picked up his suitcase and opened the front door, "Let's roll."

-------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_Part 1_

"Don't damn me  
When I speak a piece of my mind  
'Cause silence isn't golden  
When I'm holding it inside  
'Cause I've been where I have been  
An I've seen what I have seen  
I put the pen to the paper  
'Cause it's all a part of me"

-Don't Damn Me by Guns n' Roses

------------

The 5 hour trip to Denver was more than halfway over, and going just how Remy liked- quickly, and quietly. Ororo had not made a peep the whole time and it allowed him to think, put last night behind him, and concentrate on what lay ahead. It still bugged him that Ororo might have a microchip inside her- it could be used as a homing beacon.

He almost wanted to kick himself, having taken the job, mad at ignoring his suspicions in the beginning. His personal contact, Traigo, called him originally, explaining there was a big client with a big job- but they wanted to use their own personal contact. The fewer people that knew, the better and despite the risk, the million dollar price tag was irresistible.

The song on the radio was dying down and interrupted with a news announcement, stirring him from his daze.

"Last night, an attack on a roadside café off I-25 outside Raton, New Mexico left 2 dead." Remy turned the volume up as the broadcast continued, "The identities of the victims have not been released but it is confirmed one is male and one female.

"Highway patrol has reason to believe kidnap victim, Ororo Munroe, was sighted by a witness at the diner. Munroe is 5' 11" and 130 lbs. She is an African female, aged 26 with white hair and blue eyes and was reported missing from Cathedral City, California 48 hours ago.

"A description of her kidnapper was given and is described as having red eyes and auburn hair, is a 6', 165-190 lb Caucasian male. He is a mutant and is considered very dangerous. Travelers on the interstate are advised to exercise caution and to not pick up hitch hikers and if seen, please alert highway patrol officials immediately. We now return you to your regularly scheduled radio program."

Ororo clicked the station off. "At least they did not report the car. Odd considering this vehicle isn't the forgettable type. What I do not understand is we did not kill anyone. Who is dead?"

"De waitress n' de cook. Who else?"

"And the witnesses are Victor and Raven?"

"Only one witness. An' considerin' de attendant wouldn't have seen jack from his angle, most likely Victor laid low while de shape shifter reported her account. Dat son-of-a-bitch…" he muttered. "Who woulda reported y' missing? Y' said y' didn't have no one."

"I have no idea! I did not have a regular job, only left my apartment at night… the only person I ever spoke to was my landlord when I handed him my rent check. I never gave him my real name but Victor killed him."

"C'mon, Ro. A pretty girl like you don' go unnoticed. Did y' have a boyfriend, a partner in crime, some'ting." After lighting his cigarette, he dropped his lighter on the bench seat and smacked the steering wheel in frustration. Things were spiraling more out of control and it was pretty hard to swallow she didn't have a single friend.

"I promise you, Remy. No one! If you did not notice, I have been reported as kidnapped and not as a murderer. Which is weird considering before Creed attacked, I turned on my bedroom light to find my land lord's intestines hanging from a ceiling fan! That is a very suspicious mess to just forget about."

"If y' didn't give y' real name, dey'd have no records t' go by, chère. Y' a ghost as far as livin' dere goes. Do me a favor n' reach in dat glove box and pull out a lil' white- yea, dat's it." She handed him the white plastic contact lens container and he opened it.

"You are not going to do that while you drive, are you?"

"Take de wheel..." Ororo complied and the car hit a bump, "An' avoid de potholes, merde," he grumbled as he tilted his head and put the scleral lenses in, his eyes changing from red on black to brown on white. Uncomfortable as hell, but Remy figured he might as well grin and bear it in case they encountered unwanted roadside assistance… He blinked several times, trying to get rid of the sensation something was touching his eyeball, "_Because some'ting is touchin' y' eyeball, homme,"_ and then took the wheel.

Remy loathed the feeling with a passion but the lenses were a necessary evil. Unlike normal contacts, scleral lenses covered the entire eye and were nothing short of an uncomfortable nuisance. His peripheral vision was hampered considerably but he no longer looked like a demon. "Ro, y' ever considered dyeing your hair?"

"What!" her voiced dropped, eyes narrowed that he would even suggest such a thing.

"Y' look good how y' are but y' stick out like a sore t'umb. Y' know how many African women dere are walkin' round wit' a supermodel figure and white hair n' blue eyes?"

"I will do no such thing! Some master thief you are." She scoffed, arms crossed against her chest.

"An' what does de omniscient Goddess propose we do?" he spat.

"I'm thinking!" she yelled before composing herself. Fighting with each other would not solve their problem. "Have you ever forged documents? I know you have that registration, but have you done it yourself?"

"Yeah, what's y' point?"

"We could get married…" she said quietly.

His frustrated expression melted into disbelief. "Excuse moi!"

"It could work. Many a person has disappeared without warrant only to be found to have eloped. We fake the papers, I report myself to the police, explain that it was all harmless fun. It is not like I am a minor on the lam."

"Dey won' believe y'. Not bruised up like dat."

"Give me 10 minutes with a bottle of Cover Girl, I utilize my winning personality, and they will not even notice."

"What winnin' personality?" Despite the sleight insult, Remy actually considered the idea. If they let this go for too long, it would only snowball into a bigger issue requiring more explanation down the road. And it would get the authorities off of their trail- police were the last thing he needed with his job in Denver. "But y' a terrible liar, padnat."

"Just trust me. I can do this." Her blue eyes were sparkling with determination. She could tell she was gaining an advantage, he was cracking.

Usually a man that stuck to routine and rules, this sudden explosion of unexpected things the past few days was unnerving Remy, throwing him out of control and he hated it. He wanted to believe her, considering how unbelievable everything else was about her so far, it was not entirely inconceivable this could be explained so simply. As much as he didn't like it, they were stuck together for the long haul until they could figure out the Farouk mess.

He flicked his cigarette out the wing window. "Mrs. Lebeau… sounds nice."

"Mrs. Lord." She corrected.

"Right, my mistake." He grinned.

---------------------------

Remy was relieved to finally leave the Colorado Springs local library, documents he needed in hand. It had taken an hour and a half of researching Vegas weddings and finding the perfect chapel before he could even begin. The thing that sold him on this particular 'church' was the fact that the license came to you in the mail (along with your wedding photo) and a photo of their marriage certificates was available for viewing online, making his job all the easier.

He never would have imagined he'd get married by Elvis. Never thought he'd be married again, actually. Technically, he wasn't. But if he was going to be in character, he had to convince himself otherwise.

His primary difficulty was persuading the librarian, an ancient woman with horn rimmed glasses, to let him put the nice papyrus paper he'd procured into the printer. When she had her back turned, a younger woman in her twenties, with blonde hair and blue eyes, took him to the side and offered to show him how to replace the paper. All it took was his classic smile and a few compliments and she let him get away without paying the ink charge. The young ones were easier to charm no contest.

Ororo had a somewhat easier job, having taken his measurements (and his money) to buy clothes for both of them, having declared he looked like something out of Reservoir Dogs and they couldn't walk around wearing the same shirt. She needed clothes to wear anyway. What was his life coming to when less than 48 hours passed and he was already her Sugar Daddy? He muffled a laugh in the back of his hand at the thought.

Remy waited in the car for her outside the library. He was growing impatient watching cars go by. He needed to keep to his schedule. The honking of a horn grabbed his attention and a glance in his rearview mirror made his jaw drop. Ororo was strutting down the sidewalk, loaded with bags, and dressed head to toe like a 50s pinup.

Her white hair was pulled back in a smooth pony tail, revealing blue eyes surrounded by smoky liner and full lips with a rosy pout. Her brown shoulders were uncovered in a strapless lilac colored tea-length dress, a black ribbon tied around her tiny waist and white wrist length gloves covered her hands. The skirt ended just below her knees but the black stiletto's she wore emphasized the length of her legs and made her hips sway exaggeratedly with each step. A white silk scarf tied around her neck drifted slightly in the breeze, blending in with her hair.

He could have mistook her for a Vargas girl and it appeared, as he heard a whistle and more honking horns, so did the passing men.

Remy leaned over the seat and opened the door for her. Ororo sashayed on the sidewalk and turned for him to see the entire dress, "What do you think? Doesn't scream abductee does it? I saw this in the window of a vintage store and thought, 'That belongs in his car.'" After a long pause, she cleared her throat when he didn't respond.

"It's nice." He finally managed. Nice was mild. She looked fantastic. That was sitting next to him the whole time! It crossed his mind he should get involved in kidnapping more often…

A sheepish grin crept onto her face and she took her place in the passenger seat, opening one of the bags. "Do not worry, I didn't buy you a matching James Dean outfit... Actually, I appear to be a bit overdressed. You shouldn't change your clothes." Her brow furrowed in thought and she reached over, loosened his tie, and smoothed his collar down again. "There. You should roll up your sleeves. It will look like we've been on the road awhile. Right now you look a sport coat short of a board meeting." She said softly.

"Are y' ok?" he asked as he complied. She was suddenly very nervous which was expected, it was just the exhibiting it part was unsettling.

"Yes. I have just had a lot on my mind, obviously. Did you get the papers?"

"Right here." He picked them up off the dashboard and handed them to her. "Not high class o' not'ing but dey look like dey supposed to."

"Here's your ring." She'd bought the two gold bands at a pawn shop down the road for surprisingly, only 20 dollars. Before she realized what she was doing, she grabbed his hand and slipped the ring on his finger. He pulled his hand back immediately, a painful memory coming to mind and he immediately regretted it, seeing the embarrassed look on her face. "Perfect fit." She said quietly.

"Not'ing t' be embarassed bout, chère- no harm done. S'prised me is all. Gimme yours." Remy asked, noting her unease and feeling rude from his reaction. She handed him the tiny gold band and he removed the glove on her left hand.

"Stormy," he said with a big grin, slipping the ring upon her finger, "Let's give 'em hell. We're stuck t'gether fo' a while anyhow. Might as well enjoy it."

She merely nodded and said nothing. Ororo concentrated on her façade, determined not to let him down. Remy Lebeau had saved her twice now, and she more than owed him this. Failure was not an option.

------------------------------

_Part 2_

"Excuse me? You're who?" the deputy looked her up and down. He was a young man with brown hair shaved in a buzz cut. He was probably around Remy's age and was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off of Ororo's chest. She normally would have been irritated at this but in this situation, garnered it as an advantage. As long as he was interested in her just being a pretty girl, he'd be more apt to help her out.

"My name is Ororo Munroe, Officer –ah- O'Donnel. I heard on the radio there is a report that I was kidnapped and I wish to lay rest to that. As you can see, I am alive and well--" she started giggling as Remy, from behind, slipped an arm around her waist and began leaving a trail of kisses on her neck. Despite the circumstances, he was taking every opportunity to throw her off of her game.

She supposed she started it, having taken the 'newlyweds' advantage and smacked his butt in the stairwell, the smack loud enough to turn heads in the main hall. She couldn't resist, he was complaining nonstop and it was right in front of her- the perfect target. In retrospect, it wasn't that funny and now it was difficult not being awkward considering the lack of familiarity they shared.

"Uh-huh." The man was clearly not amused. "Do you have an ID on you?"

She flashed her puppy eyes, "I'm sorry, I left it at the chapel we eloped at. They called us on my cell and told us they would mail it. We were just in such a hurry to get to the honeymoon- cut it out, Robert!- I left my purse. I do have our marriage license though. The official county document is coming in the mail too." A delicate gloved hand moved the false document to the officer who read over it passively.

"Yeah, but ma'am, without a proper ID…"

"Robert, please! Go sit over on the bench." Remy scowled and complied. He was taking the opportunity for all it was worth and she had to rain on his parade. As soon as this was over with, it was back to being strangers on the run and this was more enjoyable for the time being. This marriage was more enjoyable than his first so far. Then again, it was only 30 minutes old.

Ororo turned to address the officer again, "I apologize. My husband is a bit… grabby. The honeymoon is a little too much on his mind." She laughed nervously and the officer smiled.

"Please Mr. O'Donnel, it is our honeymoon. I see you are married, you can understand how important this is to us. My husband is obviously not the man suspected at the diner- look at him." The officer did and Remy waved with a big grin on his face. The man observed that even if body build was similar, the man did not have glowing red eyes like he was told. He actually looked rather normal and very well dressed for a suspected psycho that was supposed to have trashed a restaurant and murdered two people.

"Ma'am…" duty was still in the way.

Ororo willed the tears to come on, the mist in her eyes forming a convincing argument as she wiped one away with a white gloved hand. "I… understand… you have a job to do and I am wasting your valuable time. I apologize…" her bottom lip quivered. _If you can not have your way, agree with them in misery…_He bought it hook, line, and sinker.

"Ok, ok." He said, crumbling. "But out of curiosity Miss, by which way did you come up from Sin City?"

Clever man. She could feel Remy's eyes burning into the back of her head, could almost feel his breath freeze. She paused and placed a finger to her bottom lip, feigning deep thought as she recalled her road trip discussion with the salesclerk at the vintage shop, "I distinctly remember 15 and 70- mainly because those were the longest stretches. It was pure misery being out there in that sun and having almost nowhere to stop and pee for over 700 miles… oh my, I shouldn't have mentioned that…" she giggled and covered her mouth innocently. "You'd have to ask my husband for the other shorter ways we used- I just don't pay attention to that stuff when I am in the passenger seat, you know?" _That's it, Ororo. Play the ignorant girl factor._

"Yeah. Just a moment." O'Donnel pulled a sheet of paper from the fax machine and handed it to her to sign. It was a copy of her filed kidnapping report and he asked for her to sign the bottom. "Don't go tellin' your friends I went soft on you." He winked.

"It will be our secret." She grinned, twirling a long strand of white hair from her ponytail on her finger tips. "You have made me the happiest woman today."

"Just don't tell your husband that." He laughed. "I'll make you a copy of the record. This will take roughly 24 hours to get pushed through to the Highway Patrol so just in case you get pulled over, keep it on hand."

"I think I might frame it. For the memories."

"Whatever you want but let someone know you're ok, miss. Well, here you go. Good luck to you both."

"Thank you, sir." Ororo accepted the police report gratefully and walked over to Remy on the bench, fanning herself with the papers. "Honey, it appears we are free to enjoy our honeymoon."

"Good. Been waitin' t' long to consummate." He growled in her ear.

She rolled her eyes. "I feared you were about to in front of Mr. O'Donnel." He slipped his hand in hers as they walked out of the busy station. "Such a flip in personality, Mr. Lord," she whispered, "Your hands traveling all over the place."

"Flip my ass. Y' know nothin' bout me. An' I had t' make sure dey t'ought we was an item."

"By giving me hickies in front of the Colorado Springs police force!"

"Y' offended?" he cast a cautious glance to her. Perhaps he had enjoyed himself too much.

"Surprisingly, no; but that does not mean you can touch me again. I just do not know what to make of all this. It has been a wild 48 hours, hasn't it? Kidnapping, the fight, now this report. At least one thing is solved." she mused.

"D'accord, mon chère. D'accord." He released her hand and opened the car door for her and no sooner did she sit down, her thoughts were lost on what to make of him. She couldn't quite identify his accent, despite the French sprinkled in, he was not French. And she knew he was a thief but what kind of thief could take out Raven attacking him like that, as casually as he did while smoking a cigarette no less, and handle Victor Creed in a similar manner within 5 minutes?

Remy Lebeau was still so new to her but seemed so familiar all the same. It took constant corrections from her conscience to remind her that she was ignorant to the true person he was, yet her instincts nagged otherwise. She tried to brush off the fact that she actually enjoyed his attention in there and blame it on nerves. Why else would something so weird feel so… normal? It bothered her that the main reason she went into the station was not just to save his reputation, but to impress him. Was it her competitive nature kicking in now that she was riding beside a high profile thief or was it something else? She sighed.

"Y' been doin' dat a lot. Sighin'." He said before turning the car on.

"It happens when I think." Ororo's blue eyes scanned over the paper in her hand, searching for another source of distress, anything to not admit what she was thinking. "This report... The claim was made by an unknown in New York and where 'relation' is requested, 'other' is checked and they wrote in 'employer.' What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Someone y' got a job from reported you missing."

She shook her head and pulled her hair down out of the tie and shook the white tendrils loose. It was starting to give her a headache. "Job? No, I am a thief out of necessity. Is that what you do- are you a thief for hire?"

He ignored the question and pulled out into traffic. She put her seat belt on, a bit put out but realizing she had probably hit the nail on the head, reserved her thoughts for later.

_Part 3_

The rest of the trip, Ororo remained lost in thought, trying not to think of the report and still curious why Remy still wasn't open with his job. She couldn't expect him to, she settled, because he had no obligation to. She forced her mind to wander elsewhere.

When they checked into the Brown Palace Hotel in Denver, she was too distracted by the grand lobby of the hotel to object when they were referred to as "Mr and Mrs. Lord." Remy was still wearing the ring, and she was obviously not his sister, so she let it slide. Again, she found herself wondering why they were sticking together. He could fare much better without her and all she appeared to be doing was staining his reputation and draining his wallet. There was too much confusion and turmoil within her because she did not want to leave him.

"If y' stay mopey any longer I'm gonna strangle ya." Remy threatened as they left the elevator and headed to their room.

"You really have changed overnight."

"Meh, no one's tried t' kill me today. Puts one in a better mood, no?" he grinned as he slid the key card in the door and it swung open. "After you, m'lady."

Ororo's eyes widened as she stepped inside and immediately dropped her shopping bags and kicked her high heels off to run off and explore. It was a 3 room penthouse suite complete with King sized bed, big screen TV, leather furniture, wet bar, personal sauna, marble floors in the bathroom, gold faucets, and the plushest bath robes she had ever seen.

"Goddess! There is a bidet in here! Who uses those?" she giggled from in the bathroom before running out, nearly running him over, and launched herself in the air with outstretched arms, belly flopping on the bed and rolling in the feather comforter.

Remy eyed her suspiciously as he headed into the bathroom to remove his contacts, getting more amusement out of it than it was worth, "How old are you again?" he hollered.

She waited for him to return and watched as he took a seat in a leather armchair nearby. Ororo loved staring at those eyes. So unnatural yet drawing all the same. "Since enquiring minds want to know, I am 26 but… I have stayed in a place like this! Do you live like this all the time? Because if so, I need to rethink my job status." Ororo said, chin resting on the bed, staring out the balcony window forlornly. It was wonderful being able to see the sky so close again. "Remy…" she turned on her side, resting her head on her hand. "Is there anything I can do to help you out? I feel terrible how this is going."

"How's dat?"

"Getting you mixed in with Farouk, the diner incident, everything. I feel I am only a burden."

"Nah, chère. Dat's de wheels of fate turnin'. Y' woulda been stuck wit' anyone else Farouk'd a picked. I jus' happened to have a conscience s'all. Not y' fault I'm in hot water." Every word was true. It was Remy's fault he was in this mess. If he had listened to his instincts from the beginning, he would be enjoying his next job on his own, living it up in this hotel room on his own, and loving every second of it. Or would he? She wasn't unpleasant company.

"What about your job tonight? Aren't you worried?"

"Job! Dat's crazy talk..." Where was she getting this? How did she know?

"Now who's the terrible liar?"

"Ah, hell, chère, dis is routine an' not'ing like y' t'ink. An' don' worry bout Farouk. My contact wit' him ain' my real contact anyhow- so I'm still employed." He chuckled. "How did y…"

"It wasn't difficult when you clammed up on the way here and avoiding the reason we're in Denver. Why were you in Cathedral City? What was the job you were doing?"

Remy rubbed his eyes, "Remy's not used t' talkin' business. I have a rule against it but I guess when y' business is talkin' t' y'… Merde. Can we go outside while I smoke?"

She nodded, sensing the tension as she followed him out the door and onto the balcony. A warm westward breeze was blowing, a nice contrast to the dusty air of the road trip. Out of habit, she tried to call to it, knowing it was in vain. It was always worth a try.

"I was supposed t' steal a microchip." He said, pulling a cigarette out of his breast pocket and lighting it with a gold zippo. Remy couldn't believe he was about to tell her this but they were in it together and heck, it solved the problem of how to tell her she probably had been micro-chipped like a common stray animal. In nicer words, of course.

"Ok…"

"Its supposed t' amplify or nullify a mutants powers. Some'tin t' do wit' moderatin' neural synapses dat control dere utilization…"

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very cold despite the warm sun. Ororo's suspicions were mounting. "Where did Creed come in to the picture? You seem to know a bit about him."

"He wasn' supposed t' be dere at first but I only knew what de Contact tol' me. I called t' check in, I don' carry a cell phone- too easily traced."

"And a hard line isn't?"

"Don' matter when y' announcin' y' arrival t' de location de're expectin' y' at, petite. Anyhow, I call an' de guy says dere's a change in plans. Dat someone already procured de item and it will be delivered t' me in Phoenix by way o' a man named Victor Creed. I've met Creed befo', not under de best circumstances an' dere was no love lost 'tween us at dat diner.

"Anyhow, after dat call, I was irritated and suspicious. Why hire a t'ief if y' have anot'er one already on de job? I met Creed like I was supposed t' and he tol' me t' keep de car running and he'd put de chip in de trunk. Didn' take a genius t'notice dat de car sank down more dan a half ounce chip should an' halfway down de road opened de trunk an' found you. Must say, I was quite surprised when y' bolted and almost ate asphalt." He grinned.

"Thank you, again. For preventing that."

"Couldn't let a pretty face go like dat." Remy grinned.

Ororo placed her hands on the balcony rail and surveyed the skyline, thoughts racing in her head. Why would Farouk want a microchip and then want her? Was it possible that the chip was responsible for her powers leaving her? She felt so angry, vulnerable, and violated all at the same time. How dare Farouk do this to her! She started shaking uncontrollably and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. "Do you think… the chip is inside me?"

"It's very possible." Remy rested a hand on her shoulder. He was never good at situations like this. She wasn't about to cry but he could sense the strong emotions coursing through her.

Ororo shrugged the hand off. It was revenge she wanted, not sympathy.

Remy tossed his cigarette off the balcony and glanced at his watch, a mixture of disappointment and relief rushed through him. "I got t' break, chère."

"Business?" she asked as she followed him back inside.

"Oui. Y' gon' be ok here on your own?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, the sauna looked quite forboding and I think the feather pillows have claws."

He sat on the bed pulling his shoes on and paused briefly to throw a pillow at her head which hit with a satisfying 'PAFF!' "Quit bein' so snippy. Y' know what I'm talkin' bout."

She glared at him, throwing the pillow back but missing him by wide margin. "I'll be fine." She muttered.

Remy headed for the door and she called his name. "When are you getting back?"

"Don' know, Stormy. I honestly don' know."

"You are coming back, right?" it was impossible to mask the concern.

He flashed her a smile. "O' course. Y' t'ink I'd spend money on dis hotel fo' y' enjoyment! Take care an' relax while I'm gone. Y' need it." He said, shutting the door behind him.

--------------------------

It was well past 2 in the morning before Remy arrived back at the hotel room. When he had initially left, he had every intention of going to work. Except he couldn't bring himself to after his heated discussion with Traigo.

He'd spent 4 hours, since leaving the hotel suite, exploring his avenues of the Denver job. Locations, outs, guest lists, verifying reservations, everything. Satisfied, he'd decided it was time to contact Traigo and let him know how things were going before he continued preparation. He needed to make sure no one was sniffing around for his whereabouts.

From a closed phone booth on a corner several blocks away, the man informed Remy that he was still under contract with Farouk. Evidently, Creed and Raven were propositioned by a 3rd party and decided to accept it. The attack on him and Ororo in the diner was nothing of Farouk's doing and he appreciated Remy's saving her. Three hundred thousand dollars worth of thanks.

"_I'm sorry, homme, I can' do it."_

"_Y' got t' be shittin' me, Remy! It's 300k! Y' know y' screwin' me over too when ya forfeit dis!" the man exclaimed. His voice was husky with age, as he was old enough to be Remy's grandfather._

_Remy closed his eyes, Ororo on his mind. "I know dat! Y' don' understan'. Dis man, Farouk, is not de kind o' scum I like takin' money from. He's usin' her. She's an innocent, T., an she don't want t' go wit him. Kidnappin' is not my forte."_

"_Y' ain' a body guard neither." Traigo bit back. "Remy, come back t' reality here. She's a job. Jus' de same as up in Toronto months ago, jus de same as Denver now. Y' need to ret'ink y' priorities."_

"_Not a job." Remy insisted flatly._

_The man on the other end of the line became agitated. "Are y' sleepin' wit' her already? Jesus' Remy, what de hell is wrong wit—"_

"_Mon dieu! What de hell are y' talking bout!" Remy shouted, "I jus' found dis woman in de trunk o' my car yesterday and several people wantin' me dead- what do y' think!"_

"_Time & circumstance ain't got not'in t' do wit' yo' track record." Traigo muttered, "Listen, I'll tell Farouk y' didn' check in t'night. Buy y' some time t' make up y' mind. After dat, he's gon' know y' not keepin' de job and he's gon' send someone else after ya an' I can't help dat. Are we clear?"_

"_Oui."_

"_Now, t' de other matter, de game. Y' know Travis' security is goin' be mighty tight."_

_Remy leaned against the booth wall, "Child's play, mon ami. I already got m' invitation. Y' sent m' stuff, right?"_

"_O' course. Stakes are mighty high. Why don' y' just steal it. Make it easier on my old heart."_

"_Aw, where's de fun in dat? I may be no good at kidnappin', I may not be a bodyguard, but I am one hell o' a card player."_

_Traigo laughed, "Just keep dem eyes in de back o' y' head open. Too many people on y' tail now. Boy, why ain' y' dead by now?"_

"_Cause de devil ain' dat lonely yet." Remy retorted, receiving a hearty laugh on the line._

"_D'accord. I'll talk t' y' later. An' remember, don' get mixed up wit' dat femme, y' bleedin' heart. It'll just mess y' up. Already lost y' once t' a woman, don' do it t' me again."_

"_Don' worry. Won' make dat mistake again."_

_Remy cradled the phone back on the receiver, the jangle of his change dropping into the phone filling his ears. He knew Traigo meant no ill will suggesting Ororo was just another job because by all rights, she should be. Traigo's job was to bring him work, hence his name, meaning 'I bring' in Spanish. _

_When Remy asked him why, considering the Cajun man didn't have a drop of Spaniard in him, Traigo had simply said, "Because J'amène sounded too 'lily'."_

_But Traigo was right. His income depended on Remy successfully completing the job. He made a note to himself to give the old man the winnings from the poker game. For now, he was going to walk around to clear his head._

Remy's methods for clearing his mind weren't exactly well favored ones, especially considering when he started. Since 7 pm, he'd passed the time in the Churchill Bar of the hotel, downing glass after glass of bourbon as a cigarette attempted to soothe his nerves.

The poker game tomorrow really was child's play, just as he'd told the old man, you couldn't pay him to worry about it. What bothered him was how much he was protecting Ororo. She was a pretty femme, better looking and higher class than most women he'd been with, but what was driving him to keep Farouk at bay- drawing him to her? He had no stake in her life. There were things she wasn't telling him, he just _knew. _ He shouldn't care whether she lived or died. But he did- it was an awkward familiarity that nagged him.

And now he had to face her with an increasingly sobering body because the bar stopped serving alcohol at midnight. Maybe she was asleep. As he opened the door to the suite, he could see luck was not favoring him tonight. Sitting at the dining table was Ororo, silver hair tousled, smudged rings of makeup under her eyes and a half empty glass of scotch. She was wearing one of his shirts again and he could see her long, brown legs extended from under the table.

"Mornin' Stormy." He said way too happily as he wandered to the chair across the table.

She nodded, looking him over. "I noticed your job includes drinking in the bar of the hotel lobby since 9 pm."

"I was dere since 7…" he corrected with childish contradiction. "Y' miss me?"

"No. I just do not like drinking alone." She scowled. "It allows for too much self evaluation."

"Shoulda joined me."

"I assumed if you wanted company, I would have been invited, you asshole."

He did a double take, "Excuse moi? Mebbe y' should ease up, 'Ro."

"A package arrived for you. From New Orleans. Is that where you are from? I hope you do not mind, I opened it. The suit will look nice on you- a nice pin striped Armani and keys to a BMW… But your accent… I knew you couldn't be French but the words and…"

"Stormy, y' babbling. Oui, I'm from New Orleans. Born an' raised." He watched as she finished off the glass. He could tell by how little liquor was missing, the one she had chosen, and the unsteady motions of her hands, she was not a frequent drinker. "Here, ma belle. Y' want t' drink, let me get y' de good stuff." He stood up, his head swimming at first, and walked to the cabinet that held the liquors, pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label. He wasn't a scotch fan but he knew what was premium. She thanked him as he poured her another glass.

"We are two drunken fools, aren't we?" she asked.

"Jus' chasin' demons." He murmured, his mind sobering up.

"You know, I have been thinking about my 'employer' on that report… It could only be one person. Shaw."

"Who's Shaw?" Remy watched as she dipped a finger in the scotch and tasted it. An innocent gesture that created less than innocent thoughts in his mind.

"There was a Mr. Shaw who acquired my original birth records for me and a fake history to close the gap from the time I was away. An older man. He was almost 50 at the time. I was referred to him from someone on the street. To find my records, it was a high price. Either procure something of interest to him or I would become the interest. I really needed them, and he was not the kind of man you could run from for long."

"Y' got away, obviously."

Ororo laughed, reminiscing. "3 Faberge eggs, and a stab wound to my thigh later."

3_ faberge's in New York… ten years ago... _"De Worthington job? Dat was you! I don' believe it." He leaned back in his chair, seeing her in new light.

"You know it? Hm."

"Stormy, I was dere dat night- stakin' out de same t'ing. Dat place was held down like Fort Knox, shitload o' armed guards- even de roof was patrolled. An' a goddamned pea soup fog rolled in, killin' my observation chances. Halfway t'rough de night guns started goin' off and I heard on de band dey were chasin' down 4 suspects."

She smiled, downing the rest of the glass, "Forgive the cliché but they were chasing the wind. What a small world we live in."

"How'd y' get stabbed? I'm curious…"

"That was my own fault. When I was flying over the fence, you know, the jagged ironwork type. The guns went off and I broke my concentration, catching my leg on one of the pikes…"

Remy's breath hissed in.

"Poked clean through. There is nothing quite as challenging as suppressing a scream when pulling yourself off one of those. Somehow, it did not leave a scar though." She hitched the hem of the shirt up to show him where the wound had been, giving him full view of her underwear and he looked away quickly. Why did she keep doing that!

"Actually, I don't think I have any scars, come to think of it. Not physical, at least." She let the shirt drop back into place and rose from her chair, stumbling towards the bedroom, Remy following behind. Her head was spinning and her thoughts were actually worse now. She tripped over a chair and he caught her, helping her steady her legs and reach the bed.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" she asked, sitting down, watching him pull the comforter down so she could crawl in.

"Whoa… whoa, 'Ro. Where y' goin' wit dis?"

"This whole night, I have only concentrated on one thing. I have this horrible loathing running through me, I want nothing short of holding Farouk's heart in my hand. I have only hated one man more than him, and he deserves death just like the other." her eyes glazed over and she stared at him, "Have you ever killed anyone Remy? Do you know what it is like… to pass judgment on someone, without hesitation or mercy… know they deserved it, but it haunts you?"

"Oui." He answered quietly.

"Who?" Her blue eyes stared at him in the soft light of the bed lamp.

"You tell me first. Y' don' seem like de killin' type."

"There was this little girl in the village I was tending. Her name was Makena, which roughly translates to 'happy one'. She was positively endearing, only 5 years old and she used to pretend she was me- running across the village from one end to the other with her arms outstretched like she were flying.

"I was 16 at the time. It was a Wednesday morning when I left for the fields, to meditate and summon rain. I wasn't even a mile away before a man from the village was at my side, informing me a neighboring tribe had attacked, knowing I was gone.

"Seems, in their desperation from the drought, twisted logic set in and they felt that if my tribe were gone, I would place favor with them on the sacred plain. I flew as fast as I could, only to find it wasn't enough. Several survivors stared at me, silent, but I could see the accusations in their eyes. The fault of my absence.

"Seconds later, a man from the other tribe exited a home. Makena's family's. My heart was in my throat and it only took one glance inside there, seeing her fragile, broken body, stained by him, and my rage enveloped me." A sob escaped and Remy grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and she found strength to continue. She needed to get this out.

"I could have let nature do my dirty work for me but I wanted to feel him writhe with pain in my own hands. I wanted to watch it, savor it. And I did. With every mark of my knife, every scream from his throat, I reveled in his pain. It is horrible, but the only regret I have is that I could not have hurt him more, for the evil things he did to her, an innocent child. Barely 5 years old and subject to… THAT… before death… Oh Goddess…" she broke down and wrapped her arms around Remy, her warm tears soaking through his shirt onto his chest. He soothed her, stroking her soft white hair.

"S'ok, Stormy… no man like dat deserved less…" His heart genuinely ached for her as she shuddered in his arms. So strong willed and suddenly so fragile. Here he had imagined her life as a 'goddess' being all grapes, palm fans, and boy toys.

After several minutes, she pulled away and grabbed tissues from the night stand, apologizing for her behavior. "This must be so awkward for you and I am sorry. I… do not cry often but it is such a powerful memory… I have never shared it with anyone."

"Non. It's nice knowin' more bout y', even de hardships. Can' stay strangers fo'ever like dis, can we?"

"I guess not." _Goddess, did I tell him all this?_ "So I have revealed the major skeleton in my closet. Who is yours?" Her blue eyes searched his face.

"My wife." Remy returned her gaze, gauging her reaction. She was surprisingly placid and he sensed it wasn't just the alcohol. She was reserving judgement. Good thing he was only revealing the _major_ skeleton.

"You were married?"

He nodded, his throat becoming dry. "Turned out she was an assassin. An' I was de job." It was painful to think about it, the day he tried to convince her they could lay low until everything blew over, live underground. But she made it clear it was just business, no hard feelings. "I snapped her neck wit' my own two hands… everyone tells me self defense is an ok reason but it don' help when y' loved someone so much.

"Y' know, four goddamned years of marriage, two years befo' dat courtin' da effin' femme… an' she was gonna stab me in my sleep. She had my heart an' come t' find out, I became just a damn job." He ran his hands through his hair. Although his remorse had long faded, his bitterness had not.

Ororo leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently, his stubble tickling her as she did so and leaned back on her pillows. "What hand of fate crossed our paths?"

Remy looked at her quizzically, her expression calm and lucid, no mischief or flirtation behind her kiss.

"Let us get some sleep. It is approaching 3AM and only you know the day you have planned tomorrow." She pulled the comforter up to her chin.

"Who said y' get de bed? I wasn' pullin' de covers back f' you."

"It is big enough for both of us and I know you are honorable." Or at least he would have to be for his sake.

"Y' hardly know me, petite."

"I do not need to know you a lifetime to know what kind of man you are."

Remy turned the bed lamp off and took his place on the other end of the bed and proceeded to undress to his undershirt and boxers. He was not going to sleep in his clothes again. Before crawling in, he placed an extra pillow between them just in case someone shifted awkwardly in their sleep. He didn't know why he took such great pains to distance from her in any way that might be more than casual. Perhaps it was Traigo's accusation. It scared him to even think of being with her. Was it he didn't want to get attached anymore? Too many people he cared about ended up dead or trying to kill him.

"Remy?" her sleepy voice cut through the darkness.

"Yeah. chère?"

"I know how odd this may sound, but you would never be just a job to me. I could never sell you out." She murmured before drifting off.

He smiled to himself. _"Likewise, petite. Likewise."_

-----------------------


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_Part 1_

"Strange days have found us.  
Strange days have tracked us down.  
They're going to destroy our casual joys.  
We shall go on playing or find another town."

-Strange Days by the Doors

-----------------------

Ororo tried her best to hide her ailment. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her. At first, she suspected she had a hang over from the previous night but when she started dry heaving uncontrollably in the shower, she knew something far serious was afflicting her. The only good news to come out of all this, was it seemed to be accompanied by a ghost of a return from her mutant abilities.

It was what caused her to wake at 8 in the morning, a whisper in her ear from the breeze outside. As if in a trance, she had pulled the bed covers off of her and walked out to the balcony, staring at the sky, the patterns in the air slowly coming into focus yet still blurred. But they were there, enough to give lift to her weary heart. It was that moment, that a sharp pain hit her in her mind, icy fingers digging through her and the sensation she were sinking in quicksand.

There was a faint echo… a man's voice asking her questions she could not understand. It was not an unkind voice but it brought fear to her all the same for it did not belong inside her thoughts. "Get out…" she growled with renewed strength…. "GET OUT!" With determination, she purged the voice from her head and the pain began to dissolve, her vision clearing and she realized she was lying on the concrete surface of the balcony, out of breath and soaking wet from the remnants of a wild rainstorm. Exhausted but too worried to sleep, she stumbled inside and tried to sort her mind as she prepared for the day.

Despite the unsettling events, she was finally beginning to feel… right.

---------------------

After a time of watching Remy writhe around and mutter a few French words, Ororo decided to wake him. "Time to rise and shine," she placed a serving tray on the night stand next to him. The scent of bacon and coffee hit his nose and he reluctantly opened one eye, glancing at the breakfast and then at Ororo. She was dressed in her tattered blue jeans and was wearing one of his shirts. Again. And the smug smile on her face was enough to let him know she was enjoying this. He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, his body exhausted beyond belief but at least he wasn't hung over.

She pulled the covers off of him, amused slightly as he curled up against the cold and pulled a pillow over his head. "Remy, it is past 2 and I had to beg a long time to have that made so you better enjoy it."

This garnered a reaction as he threw the pillow off of his face, red eyes wide with surprise, "Past 2! Merde!" He bolted upright and began attacking his breakfast with haste.

Ororo tried to make small talk, trying to stop staring at his body. She resented herself for being attracted to him because of her situation. Thankfully, he appeared to remain blissfully oblivious. She was just lonely was all. "I tried to wake you earlier but I received some very rude words from you at my expense. What does 'Fais-moi l'amour' mean?"

"I said dat?"

She nodded, and I quote, "Ororo, Fais-moi l'amour. Sil'vous plais. I know the last part is 'please' but I am at a loss to the rest."

"It means pass the salt." He lied. Did he really ask her to make love to him in his sleep? What was in that bourbon the hotel stocked? … she must've misheard.

"Weird dream." She offered.

He didn't even recall having a dream. "Uh, yeah…. Look, I have to leave by 7."

"Work again?" she was beginning to feel put out, holed up in the room for another day. Secretly, she had been hoping that after their semi-drunken ground gaining discussion last night, they might be able to talk more. She felt a connection, that they could possibly have more in common and become friends through this. Not that she held her breath. If anything, she needed to figure out how long she would stay with him before moving on. With her powers returning, she was no longer helpless.

"Ah, hell. Stormy, y' need t' pack up and be waitin' fo' me when I get back."

"Please, stop calling me that! What is going on?"

"Yesterday… when I checked in wit' my contact- my real one. Turns out, Creed an' Raven weren' workin' fo' Farouk when dey came fo' y' at de diner. Dey got anot'er deal from anot'er hire. Farouk expects me t' deliver y' still."

Her blue eyes hardened, her stomach tightened and she backed away from him, ready to bolt. "What did you decide?" _Foolish girl._

"I tol' him no, chère. He said he'd give me 24 hours t' make up my mind o' givin' y' up an' I can' do it. It ain' right." Remy saw the panic in her eyes and it pained him to know she thought he would stab her in the back, even if he couldn't blame her. This week was crazy for both of them and becoming crazier. Why should he worry about how she thought of him?

Ororo sat on the bed next to him, staring out the window, afraid to make eye contact. "Why are you doing this for me?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged, "Why haven' y' run yet?"

She had no answer so she decided to change the subject. "So what is with the BMW keys?"

Remy took a sip of coffee, grateful for the new topic, "Got an upgrade while my baby's headin' back to Nawlins."

"Your baby?"

"Don't expect ya to understand." Remy shoveled more food in his mouth watching as her eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Enlighten me." _The things he doesn't know…_

He finished chewing before continuing. "When I got dat El Dorado, it was nothin' but a frame, chassis, and ripped upholstery. Took 5 years shapin' her t' what she is. I don' want one bad job destroyin' all dat work so I had her towed back home an' brought out my second favorite. Don't tell it dat." He grinned as he shoved the tray to the side and headed for the shower.

After brushing his teeth, he rummaged through his bag, searching for clean clothes only to find that he had more than enough pairs of pants but no ready to wear shirts. His eyes rested on Ororo. _What's dat, t'ree shirts in 2 days is it?_ She was royally screwing up his order system. "Dat better not have been my last shirt or I'll steal it from ya. Didn't ya buy y' own clothes yesterday?" he scowled.

"I think it looks much better on me and I do not care here nor there if you do not have a shirt." She said, arms extended outwards so she could peer down at the oversized shirt. It was extremely comfortable and much easier to move around in. "I bought you some clothes yesterday as well, you can wear those."

_Oh really?_ He raised an eyebrow,"Is dat a fact? Gimme my damn shirt."

"You have another 'damn shirt' coming up from the laundry in an hour. You can wait or wear what I bought you yesterday." She folded her arms across her chest, daring him to challenge her.

"Y' got some audacity." He thundered as he roughly snatched the bag off the chair across the room and the anger melted from his face as his hand pulled out a white, long sleeve button up shirt in a plastic packaging. Same brand, same size, same style.

She smiled with satisfaction. "That one had a 5 finger discount. There are two more in there, since your wardrobe had to accommodate two."

Remy muttered to himself as he trotted off to the bathroom.

---------------

Later in the day, they had a pleasant outing together, walking around town and talking about little more than what made a pleasant conversation. Ororo still kept the morning's storm on the balcony to herself, and Remy did not divulge anything about his business as they sat over dinner in a café, even though Ororo had asked several times to accompany him. He would just smile and shake his head, like she had asked the most ridiculous question. Ororo concentrated on their plans for after lunch, Remy had suggested they visit an exhibit of Hollywood's Silver Screen Sirens that was hosted at their hotel.

Remy was almost enjoying himself, the relaxing company she presented and the casual air between them despite that morning. It took a glance down at his hand and the sight of the wedding ring on his finger to remember that this wasn't normal or a date, this was something out of his control and Ororo was getting under his skin, in a non-threatening but still intrusive way. It was strange how his finger barely felt the gold band and he chalked it up to his marriage previously. Even if it had been 4 years ago.

"Fais-moi l'amour. Sil'vous plais." She asked earnestly.

"Excuse moi!" he cleared his throat, staring at her for the forward question.

"The salt. Fais-moi l'amour. Sil'vous plais."

"Sure." He grinned that she had paid attention, even if he misled her on the phrase, and handed the white shaker across the table to her, her hand brushing against his and he pulled back sharply. He noticed she still had her ring on but pushed it out of his mind. They had a façade to maintain.

"I'm sorry if the enunciation was off. I do not speak fluent French but I'm trying to make an effort here." She said softy with a fake smile. Her nausea was coming back and she paused to breathe evenly, and swallow the extra flow of saliva in her mouth, trying to control her nerves and will away the symptoms.

"Non, y' fine. I'm just t'inken." She dropped the shaker and he looked her over as she hastily righted it. Ororo's smile was weak, her blue eyes were dull and her face was becoming ashen as her lower jaw quivered. "Stormy… y' ok?"

"Yes, I am alright, just a little hung over, I think." She lied. "Can we get going to the museum?"

He wasn't fooled but he did not argue, observing her instead as he put money on the table and extended a hand to help her up. She refused it in her stubbornness and nearly fell over for it. He caught her gently and helped her steady herself.

"I just tripped in my heels…"

"Y' ain't wearin' heels," he whispered with concern as he managed to support her without it looking like she was ready to pass out. Her skin was blazing against him.

They exited, she quietly protesting, and he escorted her down an alley way, the shortcut they had used to get to the café. Ororo needed bed rest until he could figure out what was wrong with her. This was certainly no hangover. A cold sweat matted some of her hair to her forehead and her blue eyes were beginning to flutter, fading into a milky white and static was building in the air. She moaned and stumbled, falling from his arms.

"G…get away, Remy…"

"Ororo… you're sick and need rest!" He stooped to pick her up and a powerful gust of wind blew, knocking him backward.

She doubled over, "Close your eyes!" Before he could protest, she began to glow and he complied, a surge of lightning arced from within her up to the sky, the heat cutting through him, yet leaving him unharmed. She moaned once more and he opened his eyes. The strain of containing the electrical energy was too much and she emptied the contents of her stomach on the asphalt, the contents mixed with blood. Her body was shivering uncontrollably and she appeared to be in a daze.

"Stormy…" fear was in his voice as he gathered her in his arms and held her several minutes until she recovered.

"I… am ok…"

"Y' said dat befo' petite."

"My powers… they're coming back." She smiled slightly. "Goddess, I'm so tired."

"Merde. Can y' stand, chère?"

She locked her arm around his waist for support, feeling groggy. "Yes. Can we visit the museum now?"

"Y' shittin' me right? Y' ain't goin' anywhere like dis. It's a friggin' miracle no one noticed dat!" He scowled, masking his concern with anger. "Y' tryin' t' give us away!" he knew it was callous and she seemed to dismiss it, actually upsetting him further he was unsuccessfully pushing her away.

After getting her into the hotel room, he eased her on the bed and removed her shoes, helping her under the covers before retrieving a glass of water from the wet bar. All the while, Ororo remained silent, carrying her frustration with her and the nagging disappointment she somehow failed him.

Remy stared into her tired blue eyes and he softened, processing what actually had just happened and wanted to kick himself. He handed her the glass. "Sorry for bein' an ass back dere." His shoulders fell and he tucked the covers under her chin like she was a child.

"Do not apologize." Her voice rasped as she took generous sips. "I have controlled the elements for years… there is no reason for me to have lost control."

He chuckled, "Stormy,"

"Do not call me that."

"Ororo, you're pukin' blood. Don't tell me y' on top o' y' game right now."

She stared deeply into his garnet on onyx eyes that were glowing through strands of his auburn hair. "Do not take me to a hospital. Please. I'm sure it's just stress from my abilities' abrupt return…"

"I don't doubt dat… but ya got t' promise me ya won't get worse. But if y' do, you will tell me."

"If I didn't know better, I would say you are concerned." She smiled, her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

Remy didn't have to reply, she was already passed out. He brushed stray strands of white hair away with a gentle touch and felt her forehead for a fever. She wasn't as scorching to the touch as ten minutes before, so he surmised that perhaps it was her abilities, and her body was regulating itself.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands folded in front of him in thought. In case she suffered another 'episode,' he did not want to leave her alone. 'Worried' was an understatement. Guiltily, he wondered if the apparent return of her powers had anything to do with a warning meant for Remy, Farouk meddling with the chip that could be inside her. And if so, was he aware it might be killing her to do so or did he even care?

----------------

_Part 2_

It was 6:30 PM and Ororo was up and about feeling nothing out of the ordinary. Evidently, the sleep was more healing than she could have anticipated. She was amused at Remy's sudden apathetic front making a reappearance. She knew he had been concerned, having woken to him still sitting by her side, but she was not going to hang it over his head. Instead, she silently watched him tie his tie with nimble fingers, he didn't even have to look in the mirror as he did it. She imagined it was all done from muscle memory, forged from habit…

He looked at her through the mirror, "Do not open de door f'r anyone. Not even housekeepin', ya hear me? Y' still too weak t' defend y' self properly."

Ororo nodded. Not that she had to be told that, did he think she wanted to be dragged back to Farouk, Shaw, or whatever else creep was out there after her? She could fend for herself despite his impressions.

"Here's 20 dollars for emergency. If y' need me, I'll be at de Swanson Building on 4th. It's a closed poker game."

"If you are so worried they might come, shouldn't I go with you? I could wait in the car…" she asked as she tucked the bill into her pocket. It was a shot in the dark, asking again.

He sighed at her persistence. 48 hours and she was weaseling to be his partner in crime. However, Remy Lebeau flew solo. Always had, always would. "Cause, Stormy. It's not a place fo' y'. Chauvinists, hookers, and high stakes games are not y' scene. Y' classier dan dat. Sides, it would look suspicious if y' sat in de car and too dangerous takin' y' in dere wit' me. Y' don't take a belle like y' t' a room o' savages. It's like baitin' sharks."

"I doubt any of them are looking for a Bloody Roman Shower." She said roughly, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Remy. It chafed Ororo to no end that he thought her completely helpless but she swallowed her indignation as she did not know everything about the job before him and her illness was a hindrance. Although she had her doubts about a poker game being as dangerous as he claimed. "You're going to play Poker?"

"Don't ask, den y' can't tell. My business is my own an' I want t' keep it dat way." Remy hated being cold with her but the less she knew, the better. Especially on the off chance he did lose, he still planned on leaving with his assignment complete. The game was just to unwind after a stressful few months, the last few days being the worst of it.

Approving his appearance in the mirror, he turned, "How do I look."

She squinted her eyes, pretending to be in deep though, despite the obvious fact he was handsome in the tailored suit. "I think your red eyes look better."

"If dat's y' only complaint, I'll take dat t' mean, 'y' look like a dashing man, Monsieur Lebeau.'"

"You said it, not me." She grinned. "Take off. I want to get on the road."

"_If_ I come back fo' you."

"If you plan on leaving me, you should just tell me now so I can go on my way. Though, I could be a valuable asset to you." She held the door open for him.

"Whatever, chère. Y' need me more dan I need you." he said rather coldly and exited, waiting long enough to hear her slide the door chain in place. Satisified, he headed off to work.

--------------

It wasn't five minutes later that Remy was knocking on the room door. "Chère, lemme in. I f'got de room key."

"In a minute." Ororo pulled the chain on the door out of place and opened it, finishing pulling her white hair back into a hair tie. "Where do you think you left it? I can help…"

"Dat won' be necessary." He grinned before changing into the blue skinned, red haired Raven.

Ororo instinctively slammed the door but a large clawed hand caught it and flung it open. Victor. "House Keeping." He snarled, a sadistic grin on his face before chasing after her through the suite.

"Come on girl, your new master awaits." Raven called, locking the door behind her.

Ororo tossed furniture behind her, hoping vainly that it would slow him down. Her mind flashed to Remy, and him warning her to not open the door… but he didn't say anything about himself! But the blame still rested on her. She turned the corner to the bedroom, hoping to make a break for the door, and found herself stuck between Raven and Creed.

She decided to take her chance against the woman. Running full tilt, she dodged the woman's fist and slammed into her, both of them tumbling to the ground but Ororo tumbling over onto her feet again. As she went to bolt for the door, Raven grabbed her ankle, tripping her. Ororo kicked at Raven's head and got free but not before Victor grabbed her, that familiar crushing feeling around her neck. No matter how hard she swung or how much she squirmed, he would not relent.

"Still puttin' up a fight, but in the end, without your man, you're nuthin' but a pathetic frail. Le Diable Blanc must be getting' soft, not showin' you yer place as toss away garbage."

_Remy is Le Diable Blanc? Impossible! _Ororo kicked at Victor creed, her bare feet doing nothing against him. Raven pulled Ororo's hands behind her, tightening hand cuffs around her wrist, enough to make her cry out from the clamp.

"I think I like you better like this." Creed smiled, squeezing her cheeks hard and forcing her mouth open for a kiss. She struggled against her restraints and the vile man holding her as he tossed her on the carpeted floor, laughing as she gasped from the impact.

Raven gave him disproving look. "Honey, Shaw asked she remain intact, remember?"

"I doubt it. She's got his stink all over her. So tell me, Ororo. Is it true? Are you really supposed to be a virgin? Cause I could fix that. The pay cut would be worth it."

Ororo glared at him, refusing to speak. It was such private information whether it were true or not. Besides, what the hell did that have to do with anything!

"Oui, mon belle." Raven, donning Remy's form, leaned down next to her, red eyes burning into Ororo, staring into her deep blue eyes as 'he' brought a gentle hand to her cheek. "Y wouldn' be my first but I'll be gentle all de same. Jus' don' be surprised when y' wake up an' I'm gone." She cackled, returning to her original form and watching as Ororo looked away with anger.

Raven assumed the form of Ororo in a short plaid skirt, white blouse, and twirled white strands of hair around her finger, "Victor, I do not know what you are talking about. He saved my life. He cares about me."

"I'll show you caring…" he purred, pulling her to him and kissing her forcefully. "Raven, baby… you push my buttons."

She giggled, "Mr. Creed... can you teach me how to be a real woman? I have so much to learn…"

Creed tossed Raven on the bed and stared at the real Ororo who was now on her knees and concentrating on the floor, which he mistook for embarrassment and sneered. "I'll getcha one way or another, babe," before he headed over to the wet bar and sat down, pouring himself a drink of the Johnny Walker.

Raven stepped over Ororo and joined Victor, only having a sip of his drink before returning to guard Ororo. She was studying the bound woman with awkward intensity.

"I'm headin' to the front desk and find out if Lebeau scheduled a check out time. I know this broad won't talk." He said gruffly before leaving.

After several minutes, Raven spoke, "No hard feelings, girl. And all that talk from before, Victor just likes to get under the skin of his prey."

Ororo couldn't believe it. Was this woman honestly trying to make casual conversation with her? _What is wrong with these people and are they honestly that stupid? No better than wild animals…_

Raven leaned back on the palms of her hand and crossed her legs. "You'll like where you're going. A lot better than the creep from before. This guy's been watching you for some time. Although one wonders… why do these men keep seeking you out? You work the street at one time or something?" She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and began chewing in the same obnoxious way from the diner.

Ororo raised her eyes to meet Ravens and glared. Ororo had done a lot of things in her life to survive, but whoring was never an option she would consider.

"Touchy." Raven giggled shrilly and rose off the bed, to inspect for damage to her face in the vanity mirror. "No matter, doll. As I said this guy's gonna take good care of ya. Making you a queen or something. I didn't ask for the pamphlet."

Ororo closed her eyes, as she focused on gently withdrawing the lock pick from the hem of her jeans and began to work the handcuffs. She only needed to get one hand free. Just one. Then she would make a run for it.

She had deduced there was no way she could get the front door chain and bolt unlocked before Raven would be upon her and she did not wish to run into Victor in her escape.

However, the balcony was just an unlocked set of French doors that opened outwards. From there, it was up to her goddess as her only chance was a 12 foot leap to the balcony one suite over and one floor lower.

Raven paused, having noticed the slight movement of Ororo's shoulders and stared at her hard through the mirror. "What are you doing?"

The cuff loosened around Ororo's wrist and she dared to open her eyes and scanned the disarrayed room with new eyes. It would take her approximately 16 steps to reach the balcony.

Within seconds, Ororo was on her feet and sprinted to the balcony, giving Raven few seconds to gather her wits. Raven whipped out a knife and slashed for her. Ororo met her halfway, sinking her knee into the woman's stomach and dealing a blow to her back with an elbow, thus ending the fight before it began.

Bursting through the French doors, wind whipped through her hair and she assessed the distance with only a glance. _ Goddess preserve me!_ With that final thought, she flung herself from the railing towards the lower balcony.

For a brief second, she enjoyed the air roaring past her ears, imagining she was flying and not falling. As usual, reason grounded her better than gravity could and the sharp pain of her arms smacking the metal railing of the balcony stung her to her bones, bruising her palms. _Just add them to the collection and keep going._

She heard cursing behind her as she struggled over the edge, her heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through her. Without hesitation, she burst into the hotel room. Her attackers would be upon her in no time if she did not keep moving, commanding herself to forge ahead and find a stairwell_. Get into a public area. Less chance of an attack._

Downstairs, Ororo spotted Victor, standing nearly 2 heads taller than most in the crowded lobby. She ducked into a door behind her, the door to the now closed Hollywood exhibit Remy had intended to take her to. She reached upwards and flipped the locks of the doors to keep anyone from entering before giving herself a second to catch her breath.

Her lungs strained for air and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. A burning in her left hip caught her attention and looking down, she realized Raven had grazed her with the knife. The cut wasn't severely deep, her pants had protected her fairly well, but it was a nuisance. She had to find Remy.

Ororo scanned the room, trying to calm her head and sort out a plan. Her eyes rested on a strapless red beaded dress in a display case. There was no way she could get into the building Remy was at without a nicer outfit and the dress was more than suitable. Jackpot.

It took less than 20 seconds to get the case open and under a minute to change. A quick read of the tag revealed it was worn by Ava Gardner and as luck would have it, her measurements were identical. Only Ororo's legs would get more mileage out of it than Miss Gardner's ever could. There weren't too many women from the golden days of the Silver Screen that topped out at 5'11".

Unfortunately, the shoes were slightly too small. Painful as they were, she'd have to bear it but only when she reached his building. Until then, it was bare feet.

Gathering up her belongings, she shoved them in the matching hand bag before she exited the hotel and hailed a cab, oblivious to anyone who could be watching. The cab ride over to the Fairbanks Building allowed Ororo to think about everything Victor had said.

Why was Shaw, if it was indeed Shaw, interested in such a personal thing as her sexual history? Or was Sabretooth just ridiculing her like Raven had suggested? Her whole life, she had been a prisoner to her mutant powers being tied to her emotions. She could barely shed a tear without rain following suit, or explode in anger without a violent weather reaction.

The fact that the emotions of love were not immune from that curse was compounded six years ago.

After having nearly leveled an Indian reservation when she and a Cheyenne man had attempted to consummate their love, she resigned herself to never being allowed the pleasures of intimate human contact. Her heart was still sore at their departure from each other, but understandable. Goddess, she missed him.

And was it possible that Le Diable Blanc and Remy were one and the same? Le Diable Blanc was a well known thief in the underworld, revered as one of the best. It was also common fact he was a bit of… a womanizer. Stealing hearts were his specialty. A silly rumor, but to all rumors, there is usually a shred of truth. To think Remy had been married… and shared the same reputation…then again, Ororo had to remind herself she knew nothing of Remy.

She decided she didn't care much about that. What she cared about was the fact that Le Diable Blanc was also known to leave a trail of dead bodies in certain jobs. The cab slowed to a stop. _Push it aside Ororo, you can handle yourself. Time for the big show._

As she exited the taxi, she fetched her change from the 20 dollar bill Remy had the foresight to hand her. No sooner did the yellow sedan pull away, another stab of nausea hit her. She ran for a nearby waste basket and vomited again, still seeing blood. What was happening to her? She fought her body, forcing the mind to ignore the condition with sheer will and entered the building.

---------------

_Part 3_

"And what are you here for?" the security guard gave her an appraising look. One that oozed nothing but disgust. Not that she could blame him, she'd feel the same way if the role were reversed.

"Robert Lord is expecting me." She commanded, eyeing the bowl of stale mints on the desk. _Anything's better than vomit…_Ororo retrieved a handful and shoved them in her mouth.

"No one gets past this door without a weapons check." He grunted.

Ororo extended her arms at her side and handed him her bag. "Then check away."

"And for what reason is Mr. Lord expecting you?" the backs of his hands patted her down militarily. The man almost appeared to go out of his way to treat her like scum.

"Business or pleasure. Take your pick." She winked. It was a gamble acting like a hooker but Remy said there would be plenty of them. Then again, Ororo wasn't much experienced playing a prostitute. _That's a good thing_ she reminded herself.

He rolled his eyes and picked up the phone, "Yeah, this is Talbot here. We have a late arrival. Says she's with a Mr. Lord? Black girl with a white wig… It's just some common hooker but…"

"…."

"…escort her up? Ok." He slammed the phone, muttering something under his breath about lonely business types. Ororo just smiled sweetly. The man was unpleasantly cranky and obviously unwavered by flirtation. But what was up with him thinking her hair a wig? No hooker could afford a wig to look like her mane…

It was an uncomfortable minute on the elevator, Ororo struggling to forget the half size too small shoes and the insanely short dress, wondering what she was getting herself into- a poker game with stodgy business men passing the night with whores. The thought dawned on her that it would be irritating if Remy were cavorting with a prostitute. She began to scold and reason with herself. _Ororo, jealousy and possessiveness are not becoming. Especially over LeDiable Blanc, a man of ill repute and you only know 48 hours. No it is only because it would interfere with business if he were 'socializing'…_

The elevator dinged and its doors parted, allowing Talbot to lead her down the hall. He punched in a code by the door, hiding the keypad with his body but from the tone of the buttons, she knew which 7 numbers he had pushed. Not that it was important, but it was habit. And it appeared her host was a Tommy Tutone fan.

Several pairs of eyes turned to stare at her as Talbot pushed her into the room.

"Here's your hooker." He left the room, leaving Ororo irritated at his mishandling of her and wondering where his personality went. Her eyes locked with Remy's and she resisted a smile of relief, mustering a confident one instead, and began walking nonchalantly over to his side.

One man at the head of the table, who appeared to be the host, lowered his cigar and looked her up and down, "Robert, that one isn't Denver stock. Where did you find such an exquisite… creature. I might have to buy her off of you- save you from the wraith of your new wife finding out you're mixing with harlots." He joked.

'Robert' just looked at the man with non-amusement as he slid an arm around Ororo's hips and pulled her close to him. "This 'harlot' _is_ my wife," he said flatly, his accent completely gone and replaced with a typical Midwestern edict.

"My apologies, it was only a tease." If it were an apology, there was no remorse in his voice.

"Thank you, baby." She whispered, locking her hand in with Remy's, relieved she wouldn't have to worry about being propositioned. Last thing she wanted to do was explain why she wouldn't turn a trick. But she was not going to cozy up too close to Le Diable Blanc. She thought she had been in charge without him knowing, careful with what she allowed him to know of her. But this bombshell…

"Now what are you doing here? I told you I had a meeting." He asked sternly as his eyes searched for any signs of damage to her.

Ororo winked flirtatiously at the head of the table and coyly played along, "Some meeting. Looks like a boys' night away from home to me." _Play ignorant, Ororo. It's worked great for you so far._ "The hotel's maid service came like you expected and insisted on cleaning house whether I was ready or not and I missed you, so..."

Remy nodded in acknowledgement, catching the true meaning as he picked up his cards.

"Oh! Are you playing euchre? I am great at euchre! Who wants to be my partner?"

The men and women around the table made no attempt to hide their laughter at her ignorance, exactly how she liked it.

"Cerise…" he sighed, "It is not euchre. Just shut up and do what you do best."

Ororo bit her bottom lip and giggled, reaching a hand down to his belt, "In front of all these people? Robert, you scoundrel!"

He pulled her hand away swiftly and kicked his leg out into the back of her knees, pulling her backwards and forcing her to sit on his lap. "Time f' dat later." He murmured quietly in her ear with his Cajun accent and a wave of warmth rushed through her, her heart pounding at the insinuation and that he somehow thought he could get to her. "Much better, my love. Just sit pretty and say nothing." He turned to address his fellows, "If only I had listened when I was told not to marry for looks."

"Agreed!" the head of the table raised his glass and downed it. "Although some beauty's are worth exception."

Instinctively, she pushed herself closer to Remy, drawing comfort from the steady rise and fall of his chest against her side. He was there and it was good enough, he had her back. It took only a brief assessment of those around her to realize Remy was right. This was not a situation she was familiar with and not the place for her. But far be it for Ororo Munroe not to learn to adapt.

Cards were dealt and Ororo watched as game after game, each man placed their bets, put down unwanted cards, or folded. She was curious as to what it had to do with his 'job' but it also was killing her to not be able to ask him. Over time, the men became sloppy in their choices as the alcohol kicked in and their female accomplices became bored and focused their attentions on what they had been originally hired for.

For poker players, a lot of them certainly didn't have good poker faces she learned. However, one of them was a cheater. A man who could have been modeled after Clark Gable himself, slicked black hair and perfectly trimmed mustache. However, it was his female companion Ororo had her eye on. The woman's blue eyes flicked with the deck as it was shuffled and as cards were passed, she would whisper into her companion's ear.

Ororo wasn't the greatest at reading lips from the side but she knew they weren't discussing the hourly rate. _You had your fun at the police station? Watch me work, Mr. Lord._ She pressed her lips up Remy's neck delicately, feeling him stiffen underneath her at first from the surprise, and then she began working her way to his ear, while whispering between clenched teeth as she nibbled it, "Rhett's Scarlet is counting."

Remy recovered from the nervous rush under Ororo's touch and glanced at the lady in question. A slender, waif of a woman, porcelain white skin and jet black hair, dressed more in black vinyl gear suited for a dominatrix than a common streetwalker. But indeed, as the shuffle happened, the woman studied the cards intently and then after all accepted their hands, began informing her consort.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Lord?" the woman asked with narrowed eyes.

"Not at all. My wife was just asking me if I would like to see her in a similar outfit."

"I think white would be more becoming on her." She smirked.

"I wouldn't count on that." Ororo interjected before adding mildly, "It would be overpowering with my hair."

"As much as I would love to continue listening to you ladies bringing up fashion week here, it is interfering with a rather interesting game. However, I think it is time I brought out the main prize of the evening." The man at the head of the table said smugly as he retired through the doors at the head of the room. The other players, except for Rhett and Scarlett, filed out the side entrance for the brief break.

Remy shifted underneath her, "Actually honey, I have something in mind for you... that doesn't involve making my leg numb." He eased Ororo off of his lap and stood, putting a cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and began to lead her from the room. He was stopped by the click of a gun.

"You, are going nowhere Mr. Lebeau."

"Pardon?" he looked her up and down, mostly studying the barrel of the shiny desert eagle .44 in her hand. Her arm was steady and her aim was right for his chest as she approached him. Not good, but not un-fixable.

"I don't like the sound of those gears turning in your head." She glared. "Look, you're not stupid enough to get yourself shot. And because of that, you are going to sit back down," she gestured with the gun, and he complied. The woman reached back and slapped him hard with the gun across the face, busting his lip and leaving a gash on his cheek in the process, "Mon dieu, y' crazy effin' psycho."

She barely acknowledged his pain, keeping the gun on him as she backed away. "And you, my dear Wild Iris, are going to come over by me."

"Wild... Iris?" Remy looked at Ororo with new eyes. She returned the look with minor apathy. So much for secrets.

"You didn't know?" the woman asked. "Oh yes, Ororo has quite a history attached to that name in your world, doesn't she? Parvenue," she barked to her associate, "Keep an eye on him."

"Yes, madam." He man nodded before withdrawing his own gun and holding it at Remy's head. Remy was having difficulty wrapping his head around who Ororo was purported to be. _T'ink about de gun on y'. Get out o' here and dwell later._

"What do you want with us?" Ororo demanded, trying to wrench her hand from the iron grip of the woman as she was leading her to an exit.

"High Lord Shinobi Shaw has called you. And if you do not hold still you will see him with a few extra holes in your torso. Someone as accomplished as you should feel at home in Hellfire."

The door at the head of the table opened, and Parvenue raised his gun from Remy's head, a deafening shot ringing out and the host fell. Two more shots felled the girls with deadly accuracy. Remy reached out and grabbed the man's arm, pulling down as hard as he could, feeling the man's arm snap on his shoulder. He howled in pain and Remy grabbed the gun and aimed it at Parvenue who was now crouched over nursing the limb.

"You will never learn!" Tessa spat and pointed her gun at Remy.

"Gimme Ororo back an' y' can have y' man back. Easy deal."

Tessa smiled. "Do you think I care? Shoot him."

"Ok," Remy pulled the trigger, and Parvenue collapsed to the ground, lying still in death.

Ororo was transfixed as before when Remy calmly placed a cigarette between his lips and lit up, counting down in his head for when Tessa would react.

"You… son of a bitch!"

Remy shrugged. "Don' gamble if y' can afford t' lose, babe."

In her moment of doubt, Tessa forfeited her advantage. Swiftly, Ororo elbowed her in the throat before grabbing the gun and knocking her out with it and whipped around, gun set for Remy's head.

Now Remy and Ororo stood at a stalemate, guns aimed for each other. "What a mess we've gotten into…" Remy smiled through the smoke. "De effin' Wild Iris. Next t' me de entire time, lyin' in wait. Y' ain' needed me as a crutch after all. What other secrets y' been hidin'? Am I _just a job _fo' you after all?" He was impressed, even if he was quite possibly moments from death.

She arched an eyebrow. "No, not offering information does not constitute lying but I have my doubts about your honesty too, Le Diable Blanc. Thief, womanizer, murderer…" Ororo struggled to keep the gun steady, still not fully recovered from the morning. What the hell was wrong with her body and how much did Remy truly know?

"Ah, chère, what's in a name? An while we're clarifyin' sins, it ain't murder if dey deserved it. Sometime's dere's just scum dat got t' be dealt wit' when y' run into it and it saves headaches and tears down de road." He calmly tapped ashes on the carpet and replaced the cigarette between his lips with his free hand.

"Death is death, _ma diable beau_. Your aim is off from those scleral lenses. A little to the left and you have my heart." She smirked, tossing her white hair over her shoulders to provide a clear target, continuing the banter and calling his bluff.

He scowled as he realized she was right in her judgement. _And she knew French. Must've been pullin' my chain dis mornin'._ "I c'n see y' arm's getting tired from dat bird. Y' better shoot while y' got de strength." He could tell she had decent aim, but the 4 ½ lbs of the gun was fatiguing her arm.

It was Ororo's turn to smile. "Don't gamble if you can't afford to lose... 'babe.'" And she squeezed the trigger.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

"_Oh, I see a man at the back  
As a matter of fact his eyes are red as the sun  
And the girl in the corner let no one ignore her  
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one"_

_-Ballroom Blitz by the Sweet_

_Part 1_

Even though the bullet took fractions of a second to find its target, to Remy, it was an eternity as time slowed. If you were to ask him years later what crossed his mind in that blink of an eye, he would tell you "Not a damn t'ing. No life flashing 'fore my eyes, no last words. Not'ing." What he wouldn't tell you is that in that slight second, he was too baffled to realize that it truly could've been the end.

Behind Remy, Talbot the armed guard lay sprawled on the floor.

Ororo ran to Remy, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist, him still too stunned to react. "Let's get out of here." She whispered.

Every fiber in Remy's being told him to take the opportunity to escape _on his own;_ she was more than capable of fending for herself. He did not need the trouble she could bring. Excited voices carried down the corridor and a hail of bullets hit the wall opposite the door. Remy tackled Ororo to the ground waiting for the barrage to subside as plaster dust filled the air.

"Remy…" she said sternly as his hand was on her breast.

"My apologies, ma cherie." He grinned, jumping off of her, pulling her to her feet. "Go get de window in dat room open, I'll hold 'em off!" He grabbed a handful of playing cards and charged them. Tossing the projectiles into the hallway created a satisfying explosion. As smoke filtered in, he ran over to the body of the host and opened the wooden case still clutched in the dead man's hands. "Pardon moi, Monsieur…" Inside lay his prize- the Emperess Josephine Tiara (1). The gunmen were already recovering from his assault, giving him scant seconds to grab the trophy and escape with Ororo.

She was poised over the window sill pulling her shoes off and stuffing them in to her bag. "Y' gonna get tetanus goin' barefoot." He jabbed, eyes still staring steadily at the shadows casting on the door.

"Better to risk that than a sprained ankle in these heels." She disappeared out the window and he followed just as a bullet sailed into the wall before him.

They raced down the fire escape, sparks flying from the gunfire, Ororo opting to leap over the edge from the three story plunge and landing less than graceful from the weak wind she summoned. She ignored her twisted ankle and raced for the driver's side of the white BMW 760i.

Remy cleared his throat behind her. "What are y' doin'?"

"I'm driving." She demanded, as if it were obvious. If he couldn't aim a gun, there was no way he was going to be able to drive effectively.

"Not wit'out de keys y' ain't."

She went to reach in her cleavage to grab the procured keys and Remy dangled them. "I'm on t' you. Felt y' get em after jumped on me. If y' were payin' any attention y' woulda realized I wasn't just coppin' a feel afterwards. Get in de car. Y' ridin' shotgun." He ordered.

Fire flashed in her eyes but she complied. No sooner had Ororo fastened her seat belt, Remy shifted into reverse and tore through the parking lot backwards and out into the street. He clicked the car into first gear with the techtronic shifter and they took off, 3 black sedans in pursuit.

Casually, he took his eyes off the road and reached over to turn on the CD player, swerving hard to avoid a car in an intersection as a steady drum beat poured through the speakers. "_Are you ready Steve? Uh Huh. Andy? Yeah. Mick? Ok. Alrigh,t fellas Let's goooooooo!"_

"Shouldn't you concentrate?" She asked, incredulous. It would almost be comical if it weren't for the death squad pursuing them.

"I can't unless I got a rhythm to go by." He grinned and turned up the radio. "_Well, it's been getting so hard… Livin' with the things you do to me, ah ha._" He sang, grinning at Ororo, again dodging a car out from nowhere as he tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song. "_My dreams are getting so strange, I'd like to tell you everything I see._"

Ororo watched as the tachometer climbed, 30… 50… until they were going 70 miles an hour through the city. Remy wove through cars deftly, giving and easing on the accelerator as necessary and avoiding oncoming traffic, although causing several wrecks in his wake as he used his car as his private karaoke studio.

_I am going to die in here._ Ororo thought to herself angrily as she checked the clip in her gun, pulled her seatbelt off and slid back the moon roof.

"Ballroom blitz! Ballroom Blitz! Ballroom Bli- What ya doin' now?"

"Getting fresh air." She climbed through the moon roof, white hair whipping around her in the cool night wind. A bullet sailed past her head and she forced herself to remain calm, steadying her hand to aim for the car hot on their heels.

Sparks flew off the front bumper of the sedan from her first shots, shooting out the tire of car in a high speed chase proved to be more difficult than she imagined. The 5th bullet found its mark, causing the pursuing car to skid sideways, temporarily hampering the pursuit of the other two and causing her to grin with satisfaction.

The satisfaction was short lived as Remy jerked to the side again to avoid a taxi and she stumbled, falling back into the car and into his lap.

"Now is not de time, Stormy…" he nearly shoved her away and she pulled herself up to her previous position, quite indifferent, "As if there would ever BE a time. Give me your gun, I'm empty."

Remy glanced around trying to locate where the gun disappeared. "I t'ink it slid under de seat!" He kinetically charged the empty gun and handed it back to Ororo who went to fire with it before she realized it was glowing. "Goddess!" she instinctively hurled it behind them. Just as the black sedan ran over it, the gun exploded under the gas tank, the car erupting in flames and flipping on to the third pursuing vehicle.

Stunned, Ororo calmly slid down to her seat and refastened her seat belt, "Are you still singing!" she asked as Remy's voice matched the shrillness of the man's on the stereo.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah," he head-banged with the song as the shrill wail of police sirens cut through the air. He glanced in his rearview mirror, "Merde, dere's de cops. Do ya t'ink I can convince 'em I didn't know I couldn't go 70 in de city?"

"Remy!"

"Hold on t' something." He said calmly as he slammed the brakes before gunning through the turn, swinging wide and sliding sideways through the intersection and onto another one way street, forcing the police cars to come to full stop, some fully missing the intersection, as the thieves sped out of the city, free and clear.

-----------------------

_10 Minutes later_

"That was too easy…" Ororo repeated for the third time, staring out the rear window.

"I agree, but my poppa used t' always say 'don't question what de good lord gives ya.'"

Ororo clicked the music off and rubbed her temples, feeling sick again, "They are going to have Highway Patrol after us."

Remy just flashed a devilish grin, one she was getting accustomed to seeing. "Perhaps, but… dey'll be lookin' fo' a White BMW wit' an Ontario license plate." He reached under the steering column and pushed a button. Instantly, the car's exterior paint darkened to black and she heard a quiet whirring.

"Been waitin' fo cars around us t' disappear t' do dat. Dis car's naturally black, but de paint on it responds to an electrical pulse, makin' it white when I disengage it. And, license plate has been replaced t' say West Virgina. What ya t'ink about dat!"

"I think… I am going to throw up." She clamored to roll the window down.

"Mon dieu, woman! Watch de leather!" The car screeched to a stop and Ororo stumbled out to vomit on the side of the freeway. Remy held her hair back, trying not to look at the mess lest he make himself sick and wary that the police just might still be nearby. The wail of a siren cut through him like a knife as the headlights of a highway patrol car blinded him. At least he still had his contacts in but God was seriously humoring himself this week at Remy's expense.

Remy straightened up to allow the officer full view of what was going on as he exited his vehicle. A black man, towering above Remy's 6'1", hair shaved short hidden under the brim of the uniform hat, broad shouldered and a hard glint in his brown eyes. His voice was a deep, rich baritone. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am What seems to be the problem? It is illegal to stop on the freeway and you have a tail light out."

Remy cleared his throat, answering with a bit more of a southern twang, hiding traces of his New Orleans accent, "Sorry, I didn't know…"

The officer stepped forward to get a good look at Ororo, no doubt checking for signs of abuse and narcotic or alcohol use. She looked a wreck, her white hair disheveled and dark rings of smudged makeup under her eyes and clearly wearing a party dress. "Sir, has you wife been drinking?"

"I beg your pardon, but I can answer for myself." Ororo became indignant, despite the weakness in her voice. "It is just morning sickness… however, it seems to be arriving early. I am exhausted, we have a long drive ahead of us and sometimes the little one doesn't do so well in the car, Mr…" she asked with slight mirth in her voice and placing a hand on her stomach.

"Sergeant, ma'am. Sergeant Bishop. Sir, I need to see your license and registration."

_She just pulls those lies out one after another…_ Remy thought as he rummaged through the glove compartment to pull out the West Virginia registration. Not that he was one for revealing the truth.

"Where are you two headed tonight, Mr. Lord?" Officer Bishop asked as he scanned over the documents Remy provided with his flashlight.

"Back home, to West Virginia, sir." Remy gestured to the license plate with a nod of his head as he offered an arm to Ororo for support and praying her powers would not go out of control at this moment. _Mon Dieu, please, if dere is any ounce of mercy in y', let dis Cajun boy walk away from dis…_

"What happened to your face, son?" he asked, noticing the cut on Remy's face and lip.

Remy brought his hand up to his face, suddenly remembering the pistol whipping from Tessa. "Oh, at dinner, I have this uncle that doesn't know enough is enough, if you know what I mean… he and my brother got into it and I pulled 'em apart, but not before takin' some damage."

"Were the police called?"

"No, sir. Didn't see the need to with it bein' family and all. Harold's a pain, but no one would want to press charges against him."

Sgt. Bishop pulled a note pad from his front pocket and began scribbling on it, remaining humorless. "I am writing you a work order, to make sure you get that tail light fixed. It is not a ticket, but if that light is not fixed within 2 weeks, it becomes one." He ripped it off and handed it to Remy, along with his registration and ID, still eyeing him suspiciously. "I understand this stop was unavoidable but you would do well to wait until a rest area to pull over, for you and your wife's safety. Good night." He tipped the brim of his hat to Ororo and returned to his car.

Both thieves watched as the Sergeant merged back onto the freeway and Remy nearly collapsed. "I certainly could've done wit'out dat. Y' a cop magnet." He began removing his contacts, his appreciation for them fading fast.

"I just love vomiting on the side of the Colorado freeway. It's how I pick up those handsome men in uniform." She said as she climbed into the car and fastened her belt, egging on his irritation. "Watch the leather, huh?"

"Dames in distress..." He muttered shutting her door and rounding the car to the driver's side of the BMW but not before grimacing at the shattered tail light. His second favorite baby… who happened to be the most expensive one for repairs too. _C'est la Vie._

_------------------------------------_

_Part 2_

After several more minutes of silence on the freeway, Ororo decided to address the 'elephant in the room' so to speak. "So, Le Diable Blanc… when were you going to tell me?"

"Look, Ororo, Wild Iris, whatever de hell you want to go by, I am not in de mood to get lectured on secrets here considerin' everyt'ing y' kept from me. Y' de one dat led me on. I had no obligation t' tell y' who I was or what I do. Y' fell into _my_ lap. Not de other way around. Hell, have y' told me de truth at all dis whole time?" He paused pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and searching for his lighter, his hands shaking in anger.

He was annoyed with his anger which translated to resentment towards her, the source of his annoyance. No one had frustrated him this much in a long time. Not Creed. N_ot even Raven and her goddamned gum,_ he thought with venom. Why did she have to be Wild Iris? Besides being a death sentence, she had a contract on her head as well. And since Remy was harboring her, the contract most likely stretched to include him now.

He heard the flick of a lighter and the darkness in the car was replaced with an orange glow as Ororo held the flame of his gold zippo lighter below the cigarette for him. He lit up and she closed it and returned it to his breast pocket. "You left it on the card table," she stated nonchalantly, staring out the window. One would guess she never even heard his accusations.

"Merci." He said gruffly after several seconds, smoke exhaling, his anger not easing one bit. It was taking great effort to not pull over the car and order her out. There was something she had managed to do to him that made him uncomfortable… get under his skin like no one ever had, yet it would be easier if she had tried to fight him. Instead, she insisted on helping.

"You really should break that habit. Did you learn anything from John Wayne and Clark Gable? Handsome men turned into saggy leather bags before their time." She said lightheartedly, returning to the conversation of the first night they met.

"I don' exactly smoke f' my health, chère." He chuckled darkly. "Sides, we all gonna go sometime. How ain't so big a deal, it's only a matter of when."

"You are a fatalist." She mused.

He shrugged.

"Fatalism is the idea that no matter what we have done in our lives, that our paths would cross at the same point in time, no matter where or what circumstances, and nothing could prevent it or alter those events. Destiny."

"Dat's _determinalism_. If it were Fatalism, everyt'ing is pre-determined. From de color o' socks on my feet t' dis conversation. No matter what choice we make, it was already decided dat choice would be made."

She arched a white eyebrow, "He knows philosophy."

"I know a great deal more dan dat." In actuality, his habit was founded on the firm belief that sometimes men who had done the things he had, seen the things he'd seen and lived like him felt gratification from self destruction. Every burn in his chest from that clove cigarette was a personal penance for his sins, committed and yet to transgress. And there she went again, distracting him from the issue at hand….

"What do you know about Wild Iris?" she asked, blue eyes narrowed, smile cocked oddly as she pulled her white hair behind her ears.

Remy gave her an incredulous look.

"You cannot tell me you lack curiosity of the ridiculous things people invent about _you._ Humor me."

He narrowed his eyes, glancing from the road to her, red fire flashing briefly. _What will she try and lie out of now?_ "First, I want to know how much you've lied to me so far."

"I told you. I have not lied."

"Y' didn't tell me y' were de effin' _Wild Iris_!"

"And it is not lying if you did not ask or it was never brought up. Besides, I have no idea what stigma is attached with that name. Why else would I be asking you?"

"Y' got t' be kiddin' me…"

"I despise lies."

"Y' seem content to lie t' de officer an' everyone else on our little adventure." Remy was beginning to wonder why he hadn't left her on the side of the freeway or had her restrained in some way for his safety. Wild Iris was poison. Something he was not doubting in the least, finding himself unable to rid himself of her.

"I despise lies, but sometimes they are a necessary evil. I have not lied to _you_. I have not set a good example for you to trust thus far but if you will notice, any lie I have told has benefited you mostly. I have not sold you out, I have made no attempt on your life or jobs, and have placed myself at great risk repeatedly for your sake, including remaining with you. I would like to receive a little credit for that."

He tossed the used cigarette out of the window and lit up another one, this time using his mutant power to light the tip. He exhaled smoke through his nose. "So y' really from Africa, y' really killed a man, y' got some jerk implanting a microchip in you, an' some man named Shaw is after you fo' reasons unknown?"

"Yes... although the microchip theory is yours."

"Tell me what kind o' thievin' y' done. Cause a "t'ief out o' necessity" does not line up wit' half o' y' track record."

She nodded. "There was the Faberge for Shaw which was the only hired job I ever had… unless you count the 8 months I stole cars…"

"Y' stole cars?"

"It gave me an in on the American theft circuit and operations. Ferrari's, Lambo's, Aston's, BMWs like this one…"

"Ain't none like dis one."

"Of course, despite the visual modification, I can tell you do not have the standard V-12 under this hood. The car's been significantly lightened as well, judging by how you've handled it."

She ignored the look of shock he displayed and continued, "After that, I was able to afford living on my own and performing my own jobs. I traveled around a bit, stealing high profile items for thrills and money. I kept enough to live on and donated the rest to various charities."

"Robin Hood. Uh huh." He said skeptically.

"You have no idea how many underprivileged children I've put through college." She laughed. "I didn't need all that money, and neither did the original owners. I feel that those who have should give. They had the means, I had the ability and motivation, so I did my share. Besides, most things were insured so they received some retribution."

"What about de murders?"

"Murders!"

"Several o' your heists, de owners ended up dead. Most o' dem in suicides, and I use dat term loosely."

"Oh. Those."

"Oui. _Those_."

The hum of the freeway filled the car for several seconds.

"I can not explain things I had no part of. I know of one man over dosed and a woman jumped from a twenty-second story balcony."

"And a man cut his own throat and one man carved y' name, "Wild Iris" in his own belly before diving into a hotel pool from an 8 story window and breakin' his neck."

"And you think I murdered them! Goddess!" her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Seems more dan coincidence, don't ya t'ink?"

"I didn't even murder that security guard back there! He was wearing body armor."

"And dat car exploding?"

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't you pin that on me. That was your handy work, Remy Lebeau. If you hadn't handed me that BOMB…"

Remy rather liked the fire in her eyes and tone but with thunder rumbling outside, he backed off. "Ok, I forgive you."

"I do not want nor need your forgiveness."

"Don't need a lot o' t'ings from me do ya? I'm sure y' could do just fine on yo' own now."

Ororo remained quiet and stared out the passenger window. "I do not want to be on my own." It wasn't that she couldn't survive on her own but in the recent days, she had realized how tired she was, worn out from carrying burdens on her own. Not that Remy was a good friend, but he was the closest she'd had to one since Africa and it wasn't often you found a fellow thief. Not big time at least. It was a relief to have someone else in the driver's seat for once, figuratively. But still…

"And what about you? It's no secret you've left quite a few dead in your wake and that you're a... a _m_a_n whore_."

"Man whore!" the words came out in a strangled cough.

"So the murder accusation doesn't concern you so much?"

"Neh. Never killed anyone that wasn't askin' for it- sometimes its kill dem before dey kill you… run into lots o' riff raff on the circuit. I admit, I went through a dark spell after my wife died, didn't do much work during den, so I cannot deny having a few wild nights…"

"A few? White Snake ring a bell!"

He paused in thought and he pursed his lips in a tight lipped smile. "Really? Dey call me dat still?" He erupted in full laughter as she fumed. "Stormy—"

She placed her hands on her ears. "Goddess, I don't want to know what's in your trousers…"

He grabbed her arm away, catching his breath, "No, de metal band…y' know, 'Here I go again on my own…'" he sang. "I have an affinity for 'em dat obviously, few let me live down. You thought dat was?" he glanced down. " Whoo… chère, that is classic."

"Quite."

Somewhat mortified, Ororo busied herself by retrieving the wooden box that contained the Josephine Tiara and opened it, marveling at the structure of the metal and jewels. Even in the darkness, it sparkled. For her, it was amazing to fathom someone could create something so beautiful with their own hands.

"Why Wild Iris?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"De name. Why Wild Iris?"

She inhaled deeply, resigning herself. "There is a yellow flower in Southern Africa called the _Dietes Bi-color_, aka Wild Iris. My father was given temporary assignment in South Africa before we headed to Egypt. There was a large patch of these outside our hotel and whenever my mother and I went out, I would pick as many as I could fit in my hands to give to her… I thought them the most beautiful flower I had seen. And when your mother is the most beautiful woman in your world, who else would you give the flowers to?

"She and my father started calling me "Wild Iris" from my affection for the flowers. She told me whenever she saw a Wild Iris on the way to the market, she thought of me." Ororo turned somber, "The nickname only lasted 2 weeks... But, as you can see, I could not let it go."

"I got my nickname cause my eyes." Remy offered.

"White Devil?"

"How much French you speak girl?"

"I bluffed my way through calling you handsome devil back there…"

"Beautiful devil." He corrected.

"Same difference. I concede, I was toying with you this morning- you didn't beg me 'Fais-moi l'amour, s'il vous plaît' - but I bloody well know it doesn't mean pass the salt."

"Crazy femme." He grumbled, not put out in the least.

"Please continue, you were telling me about your underground handle?"

"Oui. As a pup, my parents abandoned me cause my eyes, calling me a white devil. My papa, my adoptive father, was a member of a t'ieves guild. Dey gave me my moniker, turnin' it from somet'ing bad t' somet'ing good."

"Does it bother you, the reaction of people from being a mutant?" she pulled the tiara out of the case and placed it upon her head, slouching down to protect it from the ceiling and pulling the sun visor down to view herself in the mirror.

Remy ignored his instinct to tell her to be careful. She was not a child. "Not anymore. Over time, I learned dat bein' different ain't bad. People dat care bout somet'ing like dat ain't worth my time, unless they got somethin' worth stealin'."

"Agreed. How do I look? Like Miss America?" she poised her hands under her chin to frame her face and cast a seductive look.

He looked over and smiled at her, receiving one in return. She would certainly drag any Miss America contestant through the mud. "Y' look like royalty."

"I certainly feel like royalty. To think, just because of different cultural standards, I was revered as a Goddess and you a Demon. Almost poetic."

"So, dis Goddess t'ing… would dey have made me a God over dere?"

"No... But you could have been my pet."

"I ain't no one's pet." He grumbled sarcastically.

"You would wear nothing except a strategically placed fur cloth… follow me around fanning me with a palm branch and feeding me grapes. The seedless kinds though because I like my teeth how they are. Massages would be a requirement. Remy, let's do it. Let's go back to Africa…" She began to imagine the scenario in her head, actually giving the idea of a half naked Remy consideration.

"I' t'ink I'd rather stay a Demon."

"You know, Goddess and Demon still contains its own poetic connotation." She pulled the crown off her head. "Did you want to try it on before I put it away?"

"Now dat you mention it… no, not really."

"Just checking. I didn't want you spreading word on the thief circuit that Ororo Munroe did not share."

"I wouldn't say you don't share so much as you're expensive as hell. Your taste in clothes and your taste in drinks."

She placed the tiara in its case and sealed the lid, resting it on the back seat and giving Remy a full view of her rear end in the rearview mirror. "You know you like it."

He shook his head because in fact, no matter which she was referring to, she was not wrong.

------------------------------------

_Part 3_

While Remy chatted on the payphone outside the car, Ororo stretched her legs, regretting having to put on the high heels once more, and although having spent half her life barefoot, she had no desire to brave a public restroom without shoes.

She and Remy had been on the road 4 hours and she was beginning to regret that 32 oz soda she had purchased at the gas station an hour ago. She caught his attention and whispered, "I am heading for the bathroom."

"Wait a second…" he said into the phone, before covering it with his hand. "What?"

"I have to pee." She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Hold on."

_Hold on?_ No matter what bonding they had gone through the past few hours, she did not need his supervision to use the restroom. Any more holding on and she would be dancing around the parking lot screaming. _My eyeballs must be floating in my head._ He was not getting off the phone.

Her reserve broke and she began to speed walk to the building. She heard the click of the phone and Remy jogged up to her side.

"Sorry bout dat. I was talkin' wit…"

"Your contact… I know… I know… Why must I wait for you! I am in agony!" Her brow furrowed in frustration, pain, and annoyance.

He followed her into the Ladies Room, locking the door behind them. "Is there something I should know about you?" Ororo berated, gesturing to the "women" sign on door.

"Just don't want you wanderin' off. And it's none too comforting t' know Shaw and Farouk are sending all dere goons our way cause ya can't fight fo' shit."

"And I almost thought you were being chivalrous." Her high heels tapped on the floor as she entered a stall and locked the door. Remy examined his cheek in the mirror. The cut wasn't too deep, but it was starting to bruise around the edges. Tessa struck him pretty good.

He leaned back on the sink basin, staring at the fading blue paint of the stalls. The women's bathroom was certainly much nicer than the men's. Definitely worth considering for future use.

His mind wandered to Traigo. He'd managed to pay the bill for Creed and Raven's destruction of the room, and retrieve their items but he'd also received disconcerting phone calls concerning the chip, Ororo, and details that only Remy had known, such as Tessa being at the poker game. He was beginning to suspect Farouk and Shaw may be one and the same, if he was capable of invading minds as Ororo claimed.

Remy glanced at his watch and placed his hands in his pockets. "Any second now would be nice, Stormy."

"Can you turn the faucet on?" Ororo asked impatiently. "I can't go with you listening."

Remy's face scrunched into a silent laugh. Women. He kicked open the stall door next to Ororo's, undid his belt and began to whistle as he peed. "How's dat, my goddess?"

She was silent except for the accompanying sound of a stream of water. He heard the toilet flush and she peeked over the edge of the stall, blue eyes fixed on him. "Remy…"

"Hey! WHOA! This is… VERY private in here!" He blocked her view with a free hand "Sapristi, woman!"

"I need a quarter, pet!" She demanded, amused she had startled him and discreetly trying to peer through his hand.

"I'm busy." He said irritated. There was no way he was going to stop now to buy her 'womany things'. She'd have to wait. Now where was he?

"Oh for goodness sake…" She ripped open her stall door with exaggerated annoyance and plunged her hand into his pocket, ignoring his protestations, found what she needed and got a pad out of the dispenser on the wall.

He turned his head slightly as he finally was able finish his business, "I didn't know it was dat important. Unless y' were jus' tryin' t' sneak a peek."

Hiking her skirt up, she grabbed a paper towel and wiped the blood off of the slash mark on her hip from Raven earlier. "I cannot believe you." She scolded heatedly, staring at his back in the mirror.

"What's not t' believe? It's easier t' pee wit' a femme behind a partition dan it is t' pee in front o' a bunch o' guys?" The flush of the toilet echoed in the room and he washed his hands, watching her work

"Neither- The fact that that had to be the longest pee I have ever witnessed."

"I could be mistaken n' all, but I don' t'ink dat's normal." Remy nodded to her preparing to place the pad on the inside of her dress to rest over her hip.

"Seeing as how we are lacking a first aid kit, a girl's got to be resourceful…" she paused and stared at the now clean wound. There appeared to be a metal shaving in it. "Hand me your knife."

He dried his hands and complied. "I should just give dis damn t'ing t' you by now."

"When 'room service' arrived, Raven got a good slice in when I made my escape. I think… the tip of the knife broke off…" she hissed inwards as she pried it out and held the blood covered metal up to the light to examine it but her eyes were having trouble focusing as the room began to spin.

He grabbed her wrist rather roughly and brought her hand to his eye level. Rather than having a triangular point, it was a perfect square, half a centimeter wide. "Stormy… dat ain't no knife tip."

She caught herself on the edge of the sink as her mind and body _felt_ the force of nature return to her. Her vision of the restroom faded and was replaced with the patterns of air currents and she heard a roaring in her ears. Ororo's body tingled, like a limb that had fallen asleep and felt the first stings of blood circulating. Once again, she heard the full voice of her goddess, even in the lightest breeze blowing outside. She was whole again. It was not accompanied with illness, but rather, relief. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, before remembering she was in a restroom. "I have to get out of here…"

"Are you ok? Y' not gonna be sick again?"

"Not at all!" she hastily dressed her wound and washed her hands, elated at the change within her. "I have another favor to ask of you."

--------------------------

In the darkness, Remy watched tourists scramble from their cars to the rest stop's main building, trying to escape the torrential rain that seemed to appear out of nowhere. As he sat perched upon a hard wooden table, he sipped his vending machine coffee under the safety of the picnic shelter all the while waiting for infrequent flashes of lightning to give him glimpses of the silver haired goddess orchestrating the storm.

When Ororo first requested 20 minutes to test out just how fine she was feeling, he bargained her down to 10. They had a schedule to keep and mercenaries after them, staying on the move was in their best interest. More than satisfied with that, she began to remove her heels and pull her dress over her head which he insisted she keep on. What was she thinking stripping down in a public area?

"Nudity is only a western abberation, where I come from it is nothing. I do not wish to travel in soaked clothing."

"Den don't do dis." He smirked.

A strong breeze entered the shelter and she began to fly. Seconds later, the dress came drifting down to the earth, an obvious statement that he could not and would not dictate what she did. As well as the fact that 20 minutes was passing and she was showing no signs of coming back to earth. As he watched her flit around in the sky, he half expected her to do an 80 mile an hour face plant into the grass but she was not fatiguing.

Watching her manipulate the atmosphere to pour snow and then transform that into a raging thunderstorm with a roar that could be felt in his very core, he understood why she was revered as a goddess, even without seeing the full extent of her abilities. She couldn't be mistaken for anything else, even in modern America.

At almost the half hour mark, the rain slowed to a drizzle and a heavy fog filtered in, a thickness and style reminiscent of the Worthington job. No doubt purposefully, he thought. She emerged from the fog, drenched wet head to toe and an eerie calm about her.

"Thank you for that." She half whispered, cheeks flushed slightly darker from the wind.

He nodded and removed his suit jacket, placing it over her shoulders and she wrapped it around herself tightly. "Y' dress is on de table when y' ready t' take off." He stared at her intently as he brought his drink to his lips.

"Thank you, again."

He shrugged as he swallowed more coffee. "Couldn't let Ava Gardner's dress lie slop in de mud."

"A simple 'you're welcome' would do. You do not have to be a smart ass with me all the time." She suggested as she removed the jacket to redress.

He paused slightly, staring at the shadow of her nude body. "You are welcome, Ororo."

The absence of her forbidden nickname did not go unnoticed. "I still find it difficult to believe you called me Stormy without prior knowledge of my powers."

"If y' hadn't chosen dat God-awful Tempest name, I wouldn't have. You could've said y' name was Ramsay Ames and I'd a called y' poon-tang…" (1)

Ororo was not amused, or at least doing a good job of hiding it. "You are being a smart ass again. And who is Ramsay Ames?"

"What do we do wit' dis?" he waved the chip at her, deliberately ignoring her inquiry.

"You can return it to Farouk if you wish to collect your money for my 'expenses'." She struggled extending her arms back to close the zipper on the back of the dress.

It was almost painful to watch so he gently pushed her hands away and pulled the zipper up before answering. "Non. I got no interest in anyt'ing from him. Dis t'ing… seein' what it did t' you… it's too dangerous, I don' see a reason t' keep it around."

He charged it with his mutant power, watching as it glowed briefly before disintegrating to dust in his finger tips. "Dere goes a million dollars... and nothin' t' show for it." He said flatly, almost disbelieving he'd actually disposed of the microchip. He had to be getting old; it was his only excuse anymore for what she did to him.

"Not necessarily." Ororo placed a hand gently on the back of his head, extended on to her tip toes and kissed him softly on the lips. Soft, gentle, powerful in its simplicity... and if he were not mistaken, there was a slight tingle of electricity traveling through his body so that when she pulled away, with that sparkle in her blue eyes and mischievous smile, he had to remind himself to breathe. He licked his bottom lip.

She tasted like a peach.

He watched her push her arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, the shoulders of it hanging off of hers as it swallowed her. "What was dat for?"

"It's a million dollar kiss."

He grinned, red eyes flashing briefly. "Y' got anyt'ing else fo' sale?"

"You can not afford me." She retorted, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder and strolling off to the car.

-----------------------

The Emperess Josephine Tiara actually exists, but belongs to the New York firm of Van Cleef. The Josephine in question was Napoleon's wife.

Ramsay Ames is considered the queen of classic silver screen B-movies, where it was said from the stunt lead of one of her films, the Cisco Kid, "more stuntmen were hurt rushing to get into position to watch Ramsay Ames walk across the lot than in all the stunts Republic ever did". I like to think this version of Remy spends his lonely, late nights watching old time movies, reminiscing of the good old days with a bourbon in one hand and a remote in the other, as he's not entirely social outside what he needs to be. But the films also subtley influence him through the characterization of men back then- Bad-ass men who could drink anyone under the table, beat the snot out of jerks that insulted them or their lady, remain a flirty rebel, but is still some lady's pet at the same time.

3) Although not marked, the 'tastes like a peach' is a reference from the

movie True Romance.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you all to everyone who has reviewed for me so far- it is appreciated more than you could know to have you take the time to post your opinion, and for me to receive the feedback as to what you do and do not enjoy in the story- HOORAY FOR REVEIWERS!


	5. Chapter 5

Long time, long wait, no update. I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it- I'm so SORRY!!!! (I'm a broke record, I'm sure). I admit, I had to force out the last 3rd of this, as I had written it long before writer's block got a hold of me so hopefully, it is an adequate bridge to the next chapter. For a preview of a 'comic cover' of the next chapter, look in my profile!!!

Thanks for the reviews! Edahj, Kendrat199, LadyLuck, AJfernanda  
nanaccardoso, Lurker, Sigma1, LongingforLlangarlia- you all are the best keeping up with this and gently nagging me 

And Lurker- the X-men will exist, but not how we know them ;)

**CHAPTER 5**

"_Have you ever loved someone you knew nothing of _

_Except you'd seen the light inside their eyes _

_Have you ever loved someone just because _

_Nothing felt so easy or so right _

_And I think of you like the others do _

_Wondering if you think of me _

_And if you do, if you really do _

_Who is it that you see _

_Have you ever loved _

_Whether right or wrong _

_Have you ever loved someone _

_Just because"_

-In the Name of Love by Mary Chapin Carpenter

Part 1

It had been a rough day on the road for Remy. They had spent the night in another motel, sharing the same bed, still the same story: a few laughs over pillow talk and no touching; the never ending slumber party. There still remained an invisible tension that Remy was positive he only felt in his head. It wasn't a terse tension, or awkward… it was magnetic and it was killing him.

He forced himself to concentrate on the fact they were almost to New Orleans. Truth be told, he was disappointed the trip were coming to an end because then it meant having to face the fact she might go.

Although neither had uttered a word over it, his mind was still clearly cemented in last night. He found it striking he couldn't even remember her nude body when he tried… it was all about the kiss.

Remy watched Ororo intently as she entered the department store to buy a pair of shoes. She gave one glance back and waved before going in. He dropped several quarters into the pay phone and dialed the number he was familiar with. At least some of his routine was intact. That thought actually felt restrictive; his routine. He was almost a slave to it until recently…

"Hello?" The ancient voice answered on the line.

"S'me."

"Me who?"

"Y' know damn well who. I'm callin' from Bunkie, past Alexandria. I should be dere in about t'ree hours t' give ya de Josephine."

"Dat's no good, Remy. I need ya t' drop her off in New York."

Remy's eyes narrowed as he lit up a cigarette, did it really take Traigo that long to discover he couldn't move the tiara? "Dat's yo' job. I ain't a delivery boy."

"Ya are fo' dis. I got my hands tied and dere's no way I can move it so it's fallin' t' you."

"Traigo, I'm sick o' all dese mess ups! First, de girl in my trunk, den everyone switchin' sides and motives, an' now y' tellin' me after 2 days time I have t' change direction to New York? Dat's effin' ballsy of ya. I'm a goddamned t'ief! Y' got it?! A t'ief, not a kidnapper, a delivery boy, or God know what else ya might ask o' me next!"

"Y' still got de femme, don't ya?" the raspy voice asked, unconcerned with Remy's irritation.

Remy stared at the golden ring on his finger, twisting it around with his thumb before answering, "Oui."

"I'm surprised, considerin' how de Josephine stint ended up. And since ya killed dat man, dat other crazy dame is out fo' y' blood now. Remy, y' a dead man wit' dat one weighin' ya down."

"Ask me if I care." Remy exhaled smoke, anger in his voice. The old man had no idea what he was talking about when it came to Ororo, then again, as far as Traigo was concerned, she was just another bubble-headed girl along for the ride, and Remy was getting tired of the broken record tirade against her. Then it remembered his phone call from the other night. He never explained the Josephine fiasco to Traigo, only told him he'd had minor trouble but he secured it... no mention of Ororo even being present at the botched heist. How did he know about Tessa or the death of Parvenue?

Traigo lowered his voice, a frantic tone creeping in, "Dis ain't like you, takin' a shine t' a random femme. She's almost become ya little tag-along pet. Let her go."

"I ain't holding her against her will."

"Dat's rich. Pull ya head out o' yo ass and see reality, boy. Ya got de hounds o hell after ya over dis woman and ya have de choice to get rid o' her… and you won't?!"

"Sums it up."

"Why?!"

A crooked grin formed as in a split second, Remy's mind mulled over all the reasons he had since having first seen her in that lilac dress in downtown Denver… her smooth cocoa skin and milky white hair, poise under pressure, her sharp wit and unshakeable determination to not be controlled, the fierce victorious gleam in her blue eyes when he was staring down the barrel of that Desert Eagle and she guided his aim, defiantly daring him to shoot her… yet underneath the hurricane façade, she was still calm and gentle… But one thing stood out in his mind most vividly since last night:

"She tastes like a peach."

There was a small chuckle on the end of the line that erupted into near maniacal laughter and then became a fit of coughs. It was a solid minute before the old man could catch his breath, and Remy was more than happy Traigo relented his zealous campaign against Ororo once he did. "James wanted me t' tell you your favorite movie is back on de reel at his place. Last night t' see it."

"No shit. T'anks fo' de memo but it looks like I'll be missin' out t' go way up north." Remy said sarcastically.

"Wise ass. Dere's no hurry, boy. Go watch y' movie den head on out. It's only 20 minutes away and I t'ink time'll allow on dat."

"Traigo… no more funny shit. After tonight, I'm done wit' ya if y' blindside me again, got it?"

He sighed, "Yeah, I got it. Unknot y' britches- I've been hit blind as much as you wit dis. Enjoy dat movie." The line abruptly clicked.

"Yeah." Remy said quietly as he hung up the phone. There was a nagging annoyance in his mind Traigo knew more about the Josephine job's difficulties than he should've.

Ororo exited the department store with a bag on her arm, now clad in Miss Gardner's dress, but past the mile of legs, bright white socks and sage green suede sneakers adorned her feet. "How much longer to New Orleans?" she asked, shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

"Longer dan it should be. I'm headin' t' New York now."

"Ugh. Good thing I bought more clothes."

"I t'ought I only gave you money for shoes…"

"You said fifty should cover it. The shoes were half off and as much as you've been treating me like eye candy in this, I am not wearing it all blasted week! Is there a place I can change? There was a line but I think they thought I might steal something." She laughed at her own joke and he returned the sentiment.

"Merde, I'm starving. I got a night planned fo' us. Food, movies, more road tripping…"

"Lovely." She smirked.

"Complainers ride in the trunk."

---------------------------------

They sat in the car, under the shadow of a pine tree, each silent with their own thoughts as they ate their dinner in the fading glow of the sunset. The windows were down allowing a gentle breeze to course through the car and the calming rhythm of locust rattling filled the air.

Ororo shifted in her seat, pulling the hem of her new green and yellow sundress down and faced him. "It keeps riding up on the leather seat." She explained and he nodded slightly, as if he hadn't noticed, just like he "hadn't noticed" that if she moved her leg 1 inch to the left he would be able to see her underwear. He couldn't decide if she was truly oblivious or a tease. His mind settled on tease when she tossed her hair over her shoulder and and eyed him conspiculously..

"Goddess, I can't stand this silence. What is it you want out of life?" She asked before taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Always curious. Can ya narrow de spectrum a bit?"

"Of course. After all is said and done, on this job. What does the future hold for Mr. Lebeau?"

"Retirement, I suppose."

She laughed, "Retirement? Oh, really?"

He stared at her, stonefaced and her tone turned to shock.

"Goddess, you can not be serious… are you?"

"Is dat so hard t' believe?"

"You are not old enough to retire for one."

"It's not about age, but about means and more importantly, lack of interest. 'Sides, I'm ancient in dis field. Thirty-one and y' know how long I've been doin' dis on de big scale? 16 years. I t'ink it's time."

"I agree but you factored out ability and familiarity. After this week is said and done, you would just give it up cold turkey? I do not think you will."

"Convince me."

"When I first met you, back in the desert, you were an intriguing mix. Your words were harsh but your action spoke volumes. I was impressed, against my will, but you came across as a truly cold, condescending jackass."

Remy cocked an eyebrow, nearly choking on his coffee.

"Allow me to finish, you are not completely irredeemable. You have this confident air, dangerous wit, and even more lethal poise- how you anticipate your opponents is uncanny. As time has gone by, all 5 days, I've come to see your other qualities emerge- a strong resolve, sense of humor, compassion, and despite your profession, a sense of morals and justice."

"Now ya gon' make me blush." He smiled, flattered yet unaccustomed to the doting.

"Well, I suppose all those skills can only have been acquired from 'too many years' in the business. But it is remarkable. I am envious." She tilted her head sideways, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she picked at her green beans on her tray with a plastic fork. "We have to work on your kissing, though."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear dat."

"Hear what? Long story short, my reasoning that you are not ready for retirement is purely selfish. I like you."

"I'm touched." He mused softly.

"You do not seem to understand. I do not want to like you, every fiber in my being is puzzled. But it does not make it go away." Ororo gauged his reaction, noting the initial shock he hid too late. "There aren't too many people like us, Remy. When we find each other, it is good to stick together. We make a wonderful team, I could be a great asset to you."

Why did she need to bring this up now? Why? He knew exactly how she felt, he couldn't explain it away but as long as it were not acknowledged, it could be dismissed. He did the only thing he knew how anymore, push it away. "It's just the timing is all wrong, chère. Caught up in de romance of de circumstance. Nothing more." It was all the arrogance he could muster, and the words only came across dull and heavy. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her as he said them.

Ororo sighed and hung her head, becoming frustrated and wondering how the conversation went downhill so fast, "I am not asking for your hand in marriage, Remy," she paused, glancing at the gold band on her finger, "Why am I even still wearing this?" He cringed as she ripped it off her finger and sat it the dashboard.

"Why have you allowed me to ride along this whole time? I have my powers back, by all rights I should be on my own but you did not kick me out. I stayed because I thought I was wanted." Her voice began to waver as she struggled to keep her volume down, withhold the anger brewing at the surface. She had laid her feelings on the table and he rejected them so easily.

"You confuse me, gentleman one moment and abominable the next, but I think one thing is pretty clear here. As much as you deny it, you will not allow yourself to forget I was a job. Anything to keep me from being human, to actually warrant your attention, huh?"

He twiddled the ring between his fingers, realizing how small it really was, again fighting against himself. "Y' got my attention chère. I don' need a partner s'all. Partner's require trust and de way I see it, we don' have much o' dat right now." The words were acid on his tongue. He knew the damage they would cause and at the same time, told himself he shouldn't care. But he did. He cared enough about her to push her away. And they hurt him just as deeply to hear them come out of his mouth.

Her eyes closed, the sky grayed and she took a deep breath, willing the clouds to normal. "It is no surprise a man that lies to himself has trust issues." Ororo gathered up her purse and shoved her food in the carry out bag, stepping out of the car, never breaking her crystalline gaze from his, "Good luck with retirement, Remy." She slammed the door.

"Ororo, wait…" he leapt out of the car. His mind screamed at him to let her go, let her keep walking and he could stop worrying. Remy grabbed her arm and she shook it off.

"I have no more words for you."

"Den y' can shut up and listen!" he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, whipping her around and held her in place. "Ororo, we only know each other less dan a week an' to just up an' hear you say what I'm t'inken, it's scary. Before dat day in de desert, my life was just how I thought I wanted. And den I opened dat trunk. You in my life, ya like an effin' hurricane, tearin' up everyt'ing I built aroun' myself, stuck y' neck out fo' me more dan once, y' unpredictable, – and I… find myself liking it. Y' remind me o' a simpler time in my life, a piece o' me I've missed but… I don't want to like you out o' nostalgia, dat's not fair to you." He released his grip on her shoulders and she eased back.

"If you want me to stay, say it. I do not want intrude where I am not welcome."

Remy sighed, rubbing the back of his head and staring at the sky. Damn, she had him by the balls on this. Women were crazy, when would he ever grasp that concept? He was a masochist, pure and simple. Had to be for the next words coming out of his mouth. "I want you to stay."

"As?"

"You. Not a partner, not a friend, just… you. We'll let the details work themselves out later." He extended the ring to her which she eyed hesitantly before taking it back and slipping it on her finger, the strange symbol of whatever in the goddess name they were.

A smile graced her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun to look at him, "I can live with that."

--------------------------

_Part 2_

FYI: -_italics-_ means lyrics being sung in the background.

Under the velvet night sky, Ororo and Remy sat sprawled on the hood of the BMW, her arms hugging her knees to her, his folded across his chest, both eyes fixed on the 3 story movie screen before them at the Drive-in. The fight of the evening was nearly forgotten already, blended into the odd mess of events that was becoming their history together.

Relieved she had stayed, he decided to take Traigo's advice, after all, they were just a few hours from freeway split to head north. They were making good enough time and the theatre were showing his old favorite.

The air was cool and calm, a weak breeze allowing the speakers sound from the other cars to drift back to their position, parked in seclusion of a thicket. Remy had discovered the dirt road parallel to the Drive-in theatre on accident as a teenager and used it every visit since, preferring the privacy it provided from the other attendants.

The movie on screen was "Love Me Tonight" a movie that Remy had seen at least 16 times, 5 times at this very drive-in, but he never tired of it. In the chaos of his life, he found there to be an almost comforting classic simplicity where everything is perfect on vintage celluloid. The flawless logic that endless love could be ignited from a single glance between strangers, evolving into an elusive cat and mouse chase before both realized they were mad for each other, and lived happily ever after.

"_And never tried to kill each other,"_ he thought bitterly.

The credits began to roll and Ororo smiled to herself as she stretched her legs, "I have never in my life imagined a movie so simple… yet… perfect."

"What's y' favorite part?"

"The part that made me want to cry: when the princess was shocked to find he was nothing but a tailor, and he reminded her of her vow, 'whoever you are, whatever you are, wherever you are, I love you!'" Remy couldn't help smirking at the perfect imitation in her voice of the princess' original plea, and she continued, "The desperation in Maurice's voice, the tender way he held her, and the quiver in his lip as he saw his dream of true love crumbling away before him… Bright Lady, I'm about to tear up again." She grimaced, wiping the corner of her eye and batting her lashes dramatically.

"S'alright chère, all was good in de end. Classic work o' Maurice Chevallier."

"You Frenchmen are devious little scoundrels. I cannot count how many sexual innuendos were in there, not counting the blatant discussion of Nymphomaniacs… but the ending was nothing but pure romance."

"You can not be a tailor's wife!" He baited.

"I could and I will!" she answered, both chuckling then sighing at the same time, inciting more laughter until once more, they both stared at the screen in silence.

The credits ended, and a reel of bonus footage began, an orchestra on screen striking up the intro of the title song of the film, the lilting waltz tempo of "Love Me Tonight" filling the wilderness around them. Ororo touched Remy's shoulder, shaking him slightly to pull him from his thoughts. "This is our song."

"We have a song?"

"We do now." She jumped off the hood of the car and dusted the back of her dress off, tilting her head to the side and raising one snowy eyebrow.

"See, if we had a song, I would t'ink it would be Refugee from dat first night…"

"As much as I love Tom Petty, Refugee is not a good song for dancing. Now hurry up before it ends." She shook her hand at him and he complied, standing across from her in waltzing stance.

Ororo wrapped one arm around his waist and placed the other on his shoulder, causing Remy to interrupt, the confidence of the devil in his smile. "Now don't tell me y' don't know how t' dance, Stormy?"

"Do not call me that. I was never taught."

"Can't say dat after tonight. Ok, hold still, let me see if I remember dis correctly…" The grin he wore spread even wider as he deliberately traveled his fingers slowly down her right shoulder to her wrist before gently leading her hand to his left shoulder.

"Perfect. I get to learn from the man who can't remember the steps."

"Non, dere's different kinds o' waltzes and dere's no way in hell you're learning the Creole way first- it's practically a Tango and inappropriate for dis pace." Remy rested his right hand against Ororo's waist and a she jumped slightly. "Ticklish, I see." He grasped her left hand with his right, leading it to rest in the air at their side, palms touching and elbows slightly bent. "Now, just follow de opposite o' my steps. I'm leadin' which means y' take your cues from me. My right foot forward first, you're steppin' back wit y' left."

Ororo complied, at first concentrating intensely as they circled in rhythm with the song before realizing, with the repetitious steps, if she concentrated on the music, and allowed her body to take direction from his hand on her waist, she fared better. She lifted her head and allowed herself to finally look him fully in the eyes, and noticed his lips were silently moving along with the words of the song as he stared up at the screen.

_-Your heart and my heart were made to meet. Don't make them wait-_

Remy looked down and caught her gaze, not stopping, and she couldn't help smiling as it was Jeanette MacDonald's airy soprano that appeared to be flying from his lips, "What a lovely voice you have, Monsieur Lebeau."

"Merci beaucoup, Stormy. What nimble dancing feet y' have."

His arm on her waist snaked behind her to the small of her back, dipping her backwards, his hand traveling the length of her waist on her side, and he leaned in so close she felt his warm breath on her neck. Her eyelids fluttered, a gust of wind rushing by. "Is this the part where you kiss me?" She asked coyly, shivering slightly from anticipation.

"Shush." He whispered, timing the moment as if it were scripted.

_-Why should our lips be afraid to meet?-_

Remy leaned in for the kill, kissing her gently, not wanting to take more than she would give and at the same time, completely satisfied with just the soft feeling of her lips against his, the softness almost brutal in its delicate state.

_-Dear, I'm here with a heart that sings, Love me tonight!-_

Her hand left his shoulder and he began to pull away but she brought it behind his head, pulling him roughly against her and he stumbled forward, pitching them both across the hood of the car with a deafening and forceful crunch as the wind returned more forceful, raking leaves from the trees around them.

Her eyes widened. "I think we dented—"

"I don't care." He covered her mouth again with his and she wrapped her body around him, trembling as he trailed kisses along her throat and collarbone. Ororo's body took on a mind of its own, fumbling with the zipper on her dress and he muffled a laugh as he once again had to help her with it while she went to work on his belt.

The drive-in long forgotten, Remy slid the thin green straps of her dress down her shoulders while she locked her fingers around the belt loops of his black slacks and fervently wrenched him against her, a shy smile forming from the realization of the intimate position. It was just as his hand traveled the inside her thigh, tracing the outside edge of her panties, a bolt of lightning cut across the sky with a thunderous clap…

A light shown directly on them and they both froze. "Damn teenagers. Get the hell outta here and get a room before I call the cops on ya!"

Remy squinted in the darkness, "James?" he asked breathlessly, Ororo still pinned beneath him.

"Remy?! That you?" the flash light beam fell on Remy's face, blinding him once again.

"Turn de damn light out!" Remy hissed, eyes scrunched shut but feeling the sting of the brightness as green and white dots danced before his vision. _Talk about piss-poor timing…_ he grumbled inwardly while adjusting himself. He was, without question, in for an agonizing hour now. It was temping to ask James to come back in 10 minutes but looking at the mortified Ororo, he knew it was out of the question. Yet another one he owed the man upstairs. _One o' dese days, mon Dieu, jus' you wait… _

"Sorry, man. Didn't know it was you or I would've left ya alone." James laughed nervously, "Miss," tipping his ball cap to Ororo who had managed to pull the straps of her dress up in record time.

Her heart thundered in her chest, mixed emotions over the intrusion, disappointment and relief as she quelled the electrical storm that had formed over the drive-in. She smiled weakly at the old man at the edge of the thicket, embarrassed for her unrestrained behavior. _I am insane…_

Remy nonchalantly zipped his pants and refastened his belt, nodding towards the old man, "Ororo, dis is James. He's known me since I was…"

"'Bout knee high. Cute kid. What happened?"

"Y' say dat every time." Remy grinned, leaning against the hood of his car, hands in his pockets and sneaking a glance at Ororo's slender legs peeking out of her hitched skirt. She noticed and quickly pulled the fabric down.

Ororo wondered how he could be so aloof, so quickly. The man had no shame. No… he was just in battle mode, she realized, envious of his confidence.

"Nice t' meet ya miss, and I'm truly sorry." He tipped his hat to her once again and she studied his face. He was slightly shorter than her, his skin a rich brown like coffee, tell tale crows feet in the corners of his eyes and age lines across his brow. Gray stubble covered his cheeks and chin, the result of a long day. He had to be at least 60.

"Likewise." She extended a hand and he reached to shake it, noticing the wedding ring, and then looked at Remy's hand, an appraising gleam in his eye.

"Aw no…" he teased. "Remy… yo' boss is gonna have a fit after what happened last time!"

Ororo went to deny the claim but Remy egged him on. "Ah, ya know nothin' bout last time, mon ami. T'ings are different now."

James just shook his head, a laugh showing slightly crooked teeth, "Boy, yo' gonna be the death of him."

"So he's told me. He can drown in de effin' Mississippi fo' all I care right now."

"Ya don't mean that."

Remy nodded, "Oui, I do. Dere's some'thin up with him lately, James. This whole deal's been one tumble after another- no one's dealin' straight."

James paused, mulling over what Remy said. "She ain't in the collections business too is she?"

"Collections?" Ororo asked, puzzled.

"She knows enough, and dat's all I'm willin' t' say on de subject." Remy answered, pulling out a cigarette.

"Boy, don't you dare light that on my property. I will not hesitate to give yo' grown ass a thrashing in front of yo' wife." James glared, a steely glint in his brown eyes, "And you kiss a lovely lady like this with the stink of death on your breath? A shame, real shame."

Remy rolled his eyes and placed the cigarette behind his ear. He'd heard this speech before, maybe not the same wording, but always the same criticism. James would never forgive him for picking up the habit. "Relax. She ain't my wife. I was teasin'."

This brought upon a thunderous fit of anger from the elderly man, "What?! Whose wife is she then?"

"No ones! De rings were fo' a cover."

"And I take it neckin' at the drive in was part of it to, huh?" he winked.

Remy shrugged. "I plead de fifth. But listen, we gotta get out o' here soon. I got a call sayin' I need t' be in New York in 2 days to drop somet'ing off."

"But I thought you didn't do that."

"I don't. Tell dat t' de boss. Told ya t'ings weren't right."

"You know… that's damn eerie. I talked to him just the other day, thought ya'd want t' know "Love me Tonight" was back on the reel and all. He said in a few days he was going up t' New York for some important personal matters, real distraught over it, voice shakin' more than usual." He paused in thought, and snapped his fingers, "Hey, I got somethin' for ya from him." He smacked his forehead, "This old age, I tell ya. Let me go get it."

Ororo and Remy watched as the older man shuffled his way over to the nearby theatre office, an old concrete building with peeling blue paint and worn wooden shutters. The screen door to the facility banged shut and they breathed easier.

"Oh my goddess, I am mortified beyond comprehension." Ororo groaned, falling backwards over the hood of the car, staring up at the star laden sky. She wanted nothing more than to be up there, anything to avoid the gravity of the situation around her.

Remy chuckled, "Probably fo' de best. I noticed dat storm ya were whippin' up."

She propped herself up, leaning back on her elbows, white hair glowing in the moonlight, "That was nothing."

"What, ya aimin' t' try fo' a hurricane?" he grinned, keeping an eye out for James before lighting his cigarette. She waved a hand and a small rain cloud doused the tobacco, killing any chance of it catching light. "Not funny," he scowled, tossing it in the bushes.

She ignored him, continuing her frustrated tirade, "You don't seem to understand that I could have hurt or killed people if we continued…"

"Stormy, y' givin' me way too much credit," he teased once more with a wink before pulling her forward, resting himself between her legs again while she dangled them over the edge of the car, leaning her head on his shoulder. "But, it's ok. No harm, no foul. We live t' see another day, life goes on, so on an' so forth," he paused, grimacing slightly and shifted his weight.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fantastic." _Sacre le bleu… Feels like my nuts are in an effin' vice!_

The screen door to the building slammed again and whimsically, Ororo mussed up Remy's hair as he turned around to stand beside her, receiving a bra-snap in revenge.

James rustled through the bushes, holding the white envelope above his head. "Found it. He said it's mighty important, but ya could open it up anywhere between here n' New York. He wanted to go separate, wouldn't say why. That was Tuesday… he'd be on his way up there... well shoot, probably left this afternoon'. This darn memory."

Ororo noticed the stiffness in Remy's back and the slight twitch of his fingers resting at his side. Too his credit, he remained composed past that, actually forming a smile as he hugged the old man. "T'anks, James. Take care o' y'self old man."

"You be careful boy. Get on out of here now. Nice to meet you, Miss." James tipped his hat to her again as she climbed into the passenger seat and waved. "Crazy kids."

----------------------------

_Part 3_

_On the road again…_

"Dat goddamned son of a bitch… effin'… shit eatin'… shit faced…" Remy spat in anger once they were back on the road. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Are you done shitting yet?" Ororo asked, trying not to laugh at his horrid verbiage while she ripped open the top of the envelope James had given them.

Remy glared at her, forcing himself to calm down. "You have no idea what dis means, chère. Dat double crossin' bastard. 16 years. 16 damned years! And dis whole time, he's been tellin' me to get rid o' ya and y' ain't no good t' me and I bet, if any'ting, he's plannin' on lettin' t'ose bastards know where we're headed."

"Calm down, and think of what you are saying- your logic is flawed! We are dealing with a mutant that can control minds… but Traigo sent you to the Drive-in. James knew you always parked there, correct? If anything, he wanted you to be there and to talk to James. Don't forget, he's covered the mess in Denver. He's not betrayed you." Her eyes scanned over the paper she had pulled out of the envelope. It was a hand written letter written in an angular antique print from a practiced hand. It was short, concise, but as she read further, she knew she had been right.

"I'm gonna wrap my hands around dat turkey neck o' his and…"

"Remy…"

"What?"

"He has cancer."

"Gimme dat." He snatched the letter greedily from her hands, turning on the overhead dome light and stealing glances at the letter as he drove.

_"Remy,_

_How do you begin a letter like this? Even at 72 I do not know how to start. Well look at that, hard part's taken care of itself!_

_I've taken your 'baby' up to New York with me, I know you've got a right to be mighty angry at me for this, but I'll take care of her. I just wanted one last trip, a chance to feel the sun on the top of my head while the wind rushes past me, nothing but the open road around me and no worries. I don't have many pleasures afforded to me nowadays and I think that's what I want before I die._

_The doctor told me I have cancer. It's in my stomach and it's spreading fast. Sent me up to New York to see if there's anything they can do, though at my age, why bother trying? I've had a good run…"_

Remy tossed the paper back at Ororo, sniffling slightly and rubbing his eyes, refusing to cry. "C'n you read the rest out loud, please, 'Ro? I need t' keep my eyes on the road. I left off after 'had a good run.'" He requested softly.

She nodded, scanning to find her place, "I've had a good run and sometimes, as your father always put it, it's just best to take what the good Lord gives you. I would like to meet up with you once you are in New York.

"Since you refuse to carry a cell phone, I'll have to assume James will get this to you alright and you can meet me Sunday night at 9 at Arthur's Tavern on Grove and 7th. I'll be there with or without you, but don't keep an old man waiting if you can help it- we got a lot to discuss. Sincerely, Reynard Laurent Rousseau.

"PS If you still have her along, I'd like to meet this girl you're hung up on and see what's so special. I hope she'll keep an eye out for you." She clicked off the dome light, folded the paper and replaced it in the envelope, saying nothing as Remy's hands clenched the steering wheel tightly.

"Do you want to pull over? We can talk about this…"

"Non. I'll keep drivin'." He answered, turning the radio on so she couldn't press him further.

------------

It was nearly 9 hours later, just as dawn was beginning to peek over the Smoky Mountains that they arrived in Knoxville. Ororo stared at the road, glassy eyed, having refused once again to sleep if Remy wasn't going to. She also figured she'd rather be awake if the car ran off the road.

"Wait here, I'll go check us in." She insisted, unbuckling her seatbelt and heading for the motel entrance. She had always had horrible impressions of motels, but after all this, she looked forward to the next one they stayed at. Funny how perspective changed things.

The clerk was a rather plump woman, chestnut hair pulled back in a tight bun with some frazzly gray strands sticking out on the sides, but very warm and pleasant with a plucky southern accent. After signing the paperwork on behalf of her 'husband' Ororo grabbed the keys to room 17 and strolled out the door, squinting against the bright sun.

When she emerged from the shower, she noticed he wasn't sleeping but sat perched on the edge of the bed, reading Traigo's letter, staring at it, almost staring_ through_ it. Something wasn't quite adding up in his mind.

"What am I gonna do, Stormy?" he hung his head, brain rushing over his callous treatment of the man over the past few days, as usual, Remy had only been able to think of himself and his wants and needs. _Like a goddamned enfant. _"I never t'ought dis would ever happen, s'all. Wishful t'inken."

"There is nothing I can say to make the hurt go away… but when we get to New York, talk to him, listen to him. I think that is the only thing you can do." She kissed the top of his head and kneeled down behind him, knees sinking into the mattress before finally sitting down, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugged him. Ear pressed against his back, listening to the steady heartbeat that pounded from his ribs, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, Ororo suddenly felt very relaxed and her lids became heavy; this would work out.

Remy sighed, one hand resting on her leg, the other reaching back to pull her against him, just sitting there as the minutes marched by, reflecting on the complication in his life that was Ororo again. He decided it was time to stop thinking about it. Dwelling on the past was keeping him from moving forward, and had been for too long… no… he couldn't. Just couldn't… _I'm still the delivery boy…_

Visions danced before his eyes as he processed the past week, trying to garner any type of clue as to what really could be going on with Traigo. The phone calls… and despite the heart felt admission in the letter… the signature bothered him. Traigo never put his real name on paper, no matter who he wrote to, even James, it was signed Traigo. He pulled away, pacing the room, and she slumped down curled up against a pillow, eyes closed. This whole thing reeked of a set up, it was too dangerous. "Stormy?"

"Hm?"

"Y' ain't goin' t' New York."

"Like hell I'm not." She murmured.

Remy shook his head, _"Stubborn as a mule."_ He knew it was useless to argue, especially with her being half conscious. He contemplated leaving her early, while she was asleep but knew there would be hell to pay for it.

He stepped outside to smoke, staring at the starless sky. Tomorrow was coming whether he needed it to or not. Ororo was coming along whether he wanted her to or not. He was pretty much resolved he would die, whether he wanted to or not. Fatalism, Determinalism no matter what it was controlling and orchestrating his life, he was determined to not give them the satisfaction of seeing him have one pulled over so easily.

Raven, Creed, Shadow King, Traigo, Shaw… no matter who the hell was waiting in New York, they weren't prepared for him and he would make sure they wouldn't have time to be. He hadn't survived so long in this industry because arrogant punks could get the best of him. Remy had always walked that fine line of right and wrong, constantly justifying his actions in his head but after tonight, he realized, he just could not care enough anymore to restrain himself.


End file.
